Risen in Light, Fallen to Shadow
by The Emerald Blight
Summary: There was once a time when others thought to dictate Destiny to me. And when I gave my life, they said it was not enough. To this I replied 'no.' I took the train. I moved 'on.' Now, I live to my desires and I will stand where I must. A new life, a new world where I am not needed. But I cannot deny; that when, if, the world needs someone to stand against the darkness. I will Remain
1. Prologue

_Disclaimer: The following story is a fan-made creation. I do not own Harry Potter, Blizzard, Warcraft or any other fandom that may or may not pop up. Please support the original material._

"My destiny is of my own making." Speech.

"_I remember the time..._" _Flashback speech. Spellcraft._

"**When your people huddled in caves I was there.**" Greater being speech.

"█▄██▄▄█▄▄█▄" Inarticulate roar/scream etc.

XxxXxxXxxX

1997 A.D

It was somewhat difficult; to ignore the disgustingly wretched form of the Riddle creature that was curled up on the floor a few feet to his left. Its raspy pleas for mercy and salvation somewhat easier.

It had been just as Sirius reassured. 'Quicker and easier than falling asleep'.

A flash of green light and it was all over.

It hadn't been something he wanted to do. Who wants to die at such a young age; having not even grown old enough to be out of school and see the world at large?

He wanted to have a life of his own. Grow into his own man beyond that of the Boy-Who-Lived hype. He wanted to fall in love. He wanted to have a family. Grow old.

He wanted so many things.

But now? Now such things were beyond his reach. His death had been needed. Necessary.

What Harry considered 'Dumbledore's Final Manipulation.' The old man had raised him to be a martyr; to willingly place himself in place at the right time to die just to destroy the shard of Voldemort's very soul that had resided in his infamous scar for nearly seventeen years. Dumbledore had known what the poor boy had been cursed to carry all these years. He had known and kept him in the dark about everything.

And yet, Harry could not find it in himself to hate the man. He acted out his final moments exactly as his old Headmaster had wished: he approached the Dark Lord alone and defenceless. He had allowed the vile creature to aim his wand at him. And he had allowed those two words that had taken both his parents from him to be the last he ever heard in life.

_Avada Kedavra._

And then he had awoken here.

A pristine white structure that was almost uncanny to that of Kings Cross Station. Completely void of all other life apart from whatever that wretch that bore resemblance to his killer was.

"You can't help..."

The Boy-Who-Died spun around, hand automatically reaching for his wand. Which was no longer there. You know; dead and all.

So, without his wand Harry resorted to the only form of attack and defence he had left. He glared at the old man before him.

"Professor."

Dumbledore smiled gently, his eyes twinkling in his usual manner; as if he knew something others did not. "Harry, you brave, brave man. Come, let us walk."

The former Headmaster turned and started to walk away, forcing Harry to rush up in order to keep up. Personal distaste aside, Dumbledore most likely had answers he needed.

"Professor, what is that?" Harry began, waving a hand back to indicate to the still pleading, thing.

Dumbledore didn't even bother looking back to what Harry was pointing at. "Something beyond either of our help. A part of Voldemort sent here to die."

Harry couldn't help the briefest of irritation to wash over him. Even now the man was vague and seemingly incapable of a straight answer.

"Where are we?"

The Professor finally looked away from his path and over to the seventeen year old. "I was going to ask you that. Where would _you_ say we are?"

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes in growing annoyance in favor of looking around Harry answered. "Well, it looks like Kings Cross Station. Only, cleaner."

Dumbedore actually looked surprised at this. "Kings Cross you say, is that right?" He almost looked pleased to hear this. "This is as they say; your party. I suspect that you have come to realise that you and Voldemort, have been connected for some time by something other than fate since that night at Godric's Hollow all those years ago."

Harry nodded dejectedly. "So its true then? A part of him lives within me?"

"Did." The old man corrected. "As of a few moments ago it was destroyed by Voldemort himself. You see Harry; you, were the Horcrux he never meant to make."

"I have to go back don't I?"

It was a gut feeling he had really. He was dead. Killed by the killing curse at the hand of Voldemort himself and yet, the way Dumbledore was speaking to him. The implication of this 'afterlife' being a train station of all places. It seemed as if this place was a halfway point of all things. As if, if he so chose, he could simply turn around and go back to the living.

"Oh that is up to you Harry. We're in Kings Cross you say? I think, if you so decide, you'll be able to board a train." Dumbledore reasoned.

"And where will it take me?"

"On."

Harry had to admit, even if it was just to himself. That it was a sorely tempting option.

He had given so much to his world. His family had given so much. All to fight against an evil that the world didn't even seem sure they wanted destroyed. More often than not Harry himself was talked of in the same regard as this all evil Dark Lord Voldemort and reviled for every wrong imagined or real that happened around him. And when it hit the fan even moments later, he was expected to stand up and save the masses that were so quick to condemn him.

Could he really simply go back to that life? Did he even really want to?

Dumbledore must have sensed or even seen the indecision on his face as Harry found himself conflicted in regards to his immediate future of go back or go on.

"Harry." Dumbledore stopped and reached out to turn the teenager to him, looking down with an expression of almost sad disappointment. "So many people have lost their lives, their families against Voldemort. Don't you owe it to them to stop him? To go back and see this through?"

This didn't exactly have the effect that the Professor had intended. Clearly the former Headmaster was hoping to bolster his resolve; to goad and guilt him into returning to the world of the living and take out this evil.

Instead, Harry was just more determined to see the end. didn't he owe them? _Owe them!? _What did Harry owe to people that he had never met? To people that had supported Voldemort and hunted him down to save their own skin? He had quite literally given his life to make sure Voldemort was weak. If that wasn't enough, then screw them all.

Dumbledore's eyes widened in shock when instead of reacting as he had expected, as he had hoped. Instead, Harry simply turned his head and looked off in an unseen direction, a resigned and peaceful expression on his face. Far from the resolved and determined one he was hoping to rise up as the determination to go back to the living came upon Harry Potter.

"Harry..."

Harry ignored Dumbledore. Heedless of his stern tone in favor of watching the pure white train pull into the station.

He was tired. Seventeen years old and already he was tired with living. He wanted to rest. He didn't want to fight anymore. Not for something that wasn't even his.

"Harry don't do this." Dumbledore spoke, his voice louder, demanding to be heeded. "Our world needs you to stop Voldemort. It is for the Greater Good because if you cannot, will not do it then Voldemort will win."

Harry shook his head, his feet already carrying him forward, toward the train. "If I don't Voldemort wins? Why? There are plenty of people left to stop him. Why do I have to be the one to save them when they can do it themselves?"

Dumbledore was reaching out to him, trying to physically stop him from further approaching the train but seemed unable to get any closer to him, as if something was preventing him from closing the ground between them. "No-one else can do this Harry. Prophecy has determined it. It is _your _destiny to stop Voldemort, not any other's."

Harry didn't say anything. There was nothing worth say to a statement such as that. Regardless of his opinion or belief in fate and destiny, a single prophecy had been the original cause for his lot in life. Prophecy had been the reason his parents had died trying to save him and the belief in prophecy had caused a monster of a man to declare him his enemy.

Harry had had his fill of Prophecy. Besides, as far as he was concerned; the prophecy was complete. _Neither can life while the other survives. B_oth Voldemort and Harry had been denied their own lives because of the other. And if one cannot truly live, then how could they really die? Harry was not alive anymore, no longer surviving. So Voldemort could now truly live and subsequently. Also now truly die.

Dumbledore's words weren't even worth the air that carried them.

He didn't even dignify the old man with parting words, some kind of excuse or even solace to ease Dumbeldore's mind or even persuade him of his decision.

No, Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, Boy-Who-Died, Chosen One, he simply walked up to the waiting train. And boarded it.

It was only for the briefest of moments, but just before everything faded away; Harry could have sworn he saw a purple skinned woman sitting just there, opposite him.

Smiling.

XxxXxxXxxX

**-16,000 D.P**

It had been hard, to endure the silence of her home for so long.

Ever since her people united under the Light of Lights to found the Empire things had been, different for her.

As a warrior who had answered the call of the future Queen; her husband had fought proudly against the barbarian Trolls and other wicked elements that had once denied the Kaldorei people from knowing peace within their homeland of Kalimdor.

For a hundred years Selaenia had watched with pride as her love returned home with tales of glory and victory under their auspicious and charismatic leader and how they were growing closer with every passing day to the dream of a unified people.

No more tribes. No more infighting and bloodshed over territory and rivalries.

It was meant to be wonderful.

Instead, Selaenia Whisperwind found only grief and pain.

Eldon; her husband and life-mate. Died.

During the final push to banish a particularly large tribe of Trolls that had been holding a key point that had been required in order to claim the Well of Eternity.

'_A terrible blow that would be remembered for all time_' she had been told.

The widow could only scoff now at the very memory of such assurance. The vaunted Highborne; nobility given title and power from the ranks of the generals that had served under the risen Queen Azshara, had all but forgotten the sacrifices of the past. Now more likely to claim that they had always known such esteem and power.

Selaenia sometimes caught herself wondering what her life would have been like had she accepted the elevation herself. Had she taken the nobility of Highborne offered to her as the widow of the once great General Eldon Whisperwind.

Thankfully, in a dismal manner of speaking, her grief had been too much to tolerate living in a city her love would never see with a standing he would never know. So instead she returned to her home in Suramar and to the Temple.

That had been the way of things for the past two thousand years.

Selaenia had watched as her people flourished under the rule of their beloved Queen. The Kaldorei people grew to heights hitherto unseen. Constructing great cities across the expanse of the new empire with a great glimmering jewel at its heart, right on the shores of the Well of Eternity itself, their capital: Zin-Azshari.

Her people had grown. They had come to know peace and security. They had expanded.

And all the while, Selaenia tended to her duties within the Temple as a devout Priestess of Elune.

It was a reassuring life for her. The peace and warmth of the Goddess's love. The duty and certainty of her place under Her light.

That was all she needed.

Well, at first.

To this day the widow turned priestess could not say what had sparked such longing within her. Perhaps simply seeing the steady arrival over the coming generation. The sight of a dear friend blooming to the cusp of motherhood.

All she knew, was that she wished to be a mother.

She so desperately craved for it. The chance that had been robbed of her the day her beloved Eldon was taken away from her.

To be a mother, to carry a child within her womb and to bring forth a blessing into a world of love and warmth. To see the eyes of her precious child look up at her with wonder and innocence that she herself had once held close to her heart.

She wanted it.

She dreamed for it.

She prayed for it.

She knew it would never be so.

Even now she hoped and prayed for it.

Elunes' Eye; an Oculus at the center of the temple ceiling through which a beam of solid moonlight shone through at all times, even during the day. It was here that Selaenia found herself. Kneeling before the Blessed Light of Elune; hands clasped together as she sent out her thoughts, hopes and dreams to her goddess. She sang the hymns of Elune under her breath as she thought on her wishes and desires that would never come.

Her sisters had long since warned her against continuing tormenting herself by holding to such a vain hope. Not out of spite or cruelty, but out of concern. They could see the anguish it was causing in their sister priestess and wanted to spare her from the pain.

But she couldn't help it. She couldn't help but continue to want and crave.

"Please..."

Selaenia Whisperwind looked up, eyes seeking out the column of moonlight with dwindling hope and growing sadness.

"… Show me your Light. I don't know what to do. How can I hold my dream when I cannot take another, like I did my Eldon?"

The answer was just like every other day.

Silence.

Elune had no answer for her.

There was no anger or resentment toward her goddess. The Mother Moon did not answer every prayer and as her chosen clerics of her worldly faith, Selaenia knew better than to expect preferential treatment.

But she wished that she was special. That her goddess would answer her prayers.

It was as the priestess was set to finish her prayer; the words of the hymn of closing gathering in her mind and to her lips when it happened.

The moonlight shifted.

The solid beam, that seemed more like marble at times that simple light, shifted suddenly and sharply. Shooting from its constant position in the middle of the temple floor to envelop her entirely.

From within its confines, Selaenia felt the power of her goddess filling her completely. Burning away the grief of her lost Eldon. The loneliness of the passed two thousand years. The pain of her desires.

And filling her with. Images.

She saw...she didn't know what she saw.

They came as flashes so bright and quick they were gone before she could truly examine them, but nonetheless left a lasting impression within her mind.

A strange pink skinned child with round ears wearing strange oversized garb standing before a great bearded vagabond of a man.

The same boy, now dressed in properly fitted black robes seated at a large table amongst others like him.

The boy, now known to her as 'Harry' standing against horrible creatures of darkness and ice as they tried to consume his soul.

Harry fighting against a child of Neltharion.

She saw Harry, so brave and determined, fight against men older and stronger than him in a room of stone and shadow before a great archway. She saw him loose the only parental figure he had known in his life.

She saw a great sorcerer, known and respected to Harry fall from a tower; betrayed by one of his own as Harry watched on helplessly.

An older Harry, not in years but experience kneeling on a beach, eyes thick with tears as he lowered the covered form of a dear friend into a freshly dug grave.

Harry. Alone and scared. Surrounded by monsters. Staring into the red eyes of a demon. So desperately wishing things were different and that he could live. But resigned he could not.

A flash of green light.

She saw flashes of a life she had never witness pass by her like leaves in a great wind. And with that last, sudden and terrible flash of consuming emerald light, Selaenia felt the light of the moon leave her; returning to its proper resting place back at the temple's center.

The Priestess blinked back tears. Shocked at their presence as they spilled from her eyes but understanding all the same after having seen what she saw.

What she saw and felt next left her tears forgotten.

A shift in the shadows as one of the statues of Elune turned from its position; having at some point turned to look to her.

And a kick. From deep within her belly.

XxxXxxXxxX

**A/N:**

**This is our first attempt at a story of this kind and planned magnitude. We have put in a great deal of time and effort fleshing everything out and researching to the best of our ability to ensure it all fits in properly.**

**Of the bat I will start off by pointing out that the timeline for Warcraft may be a bit, off. This was due to our inability to locate and determine a single reliable source of timeline canon for the era prior to the War of the Ancients. So for those who consider the timeline differently, well get over it really.**

**Week 1: ****Risen in Light, Fallen to Shadow.**

**Week 2:****Never Alone.**

**Week 3:****Legacy of Darkness, Bane of Ligh****t.**

**Week 4: Zero Chakra Plan.**

**repeat.**

****Throne of Babylon** is an extra story that will be developed in between when there is time as it is has had the least amount of development and fine tuning done to it compared to the others.**

**So fingers crossed we should be be bringing out chapters in a higher frequency than before.**

**Now for the important crap.**

***ahem* REVIEW!**

**you want more chapters? Post a review and give us numbers! The higher our numbers go for a story in terms of reviews the more motivated we get to live up to your expectations and pump out content sooner.**

**READ!**

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**REVIEW AGAIN!**

**LATES!**


	2. Born to a Whisper

_Disclaimer: The following story is a fan-made creation. I do not own Harry Potter, Blizzard, Warcraft or any other fandom that may or may not pop up. Please support the original material._

"My destiny is of my own making." Speech.

"_I remember the time..._" _Flashback speech. Spellcraft._

"**When your people huddled in caves I was there.**" Greater being speech.

"█▄██▄▄█▄▄█▄" Inarticulate roar/scream etc.

XxxXxxXxxX

_Previously:_

_The Priestess blinked back tears. Shocked at their presence as they spilled from her eyes but understanding all the same after having seen what she saw._

_What she saw and felt next left her tears forgotten._

_A shift in the shadows as one of the statues of Elune turned from its position; having at some point turned to look to her._

_And a kick. From deep within her belly._

XxxXxxXxxX

**-15,985 D.P**

Har'rin Whisperwind. That was his name. The name his mother had given him on the day of his birth. Har'rin meaning Elder Light in Darnassian so named for the stories of how it was through the blessings of Elune herself that Selaenia had been fortunate enough to bear a child of her own. And as she had explained to him some few years ago when he had been old enough to understand, it was close enough to his former name to allow him to continue on with the nickname of Harry.

Raised more or less in the Temple of Elune, Harry grew up with the worship of the Goddess of the Moon. Surrounded by priestesses and young initiates it was easy for him to develop the same belief and faith that was just as strong as that of his mother's. He strongly believed in Elune and believed his mother when she told him stories of her prayers to have a child of her own that were ultimately answered. He could, however vaguely it was after so long, remember boarding the train in the afterlife and seeing a glimpse of that strange looking woman. With his rebirth as one of the Kaldorei; one of the Night Elves, Harry now understood that what he saw was a Night Elf female. But the fact was, the woman he glimpsed of in that afterlife perfectly matched the statues and other artistic depictions of the beloved Goddesss within the Temple.

So in the end, how could he not believe in her?

Selaenia raised him as well as she could. Teaching him about the histories of their people and the dark age when they had lived in as nomads before the beloved Queen Azshara had unified their people into a single empire.

It had brought a great deal of sadness to Harry every time she told him such stories only to tear up at the summoned memories of her late husband Eldon.

Harry was an active child growing up. With his rich purple skin, dark green almost black hair and bright golden eyes he was a rare sight to see running through the temple courtyards and assisting the older initiates with their daily chores.

Even the High Priestess, who was usually the most strict and least tolerant of his presence in the female dominated temple could not resist the smallest of smiles at the warmth his presence brought whenever he passed by.

But if there was one thing that Harry loved to do, more than spending time with the family he had in his mother and the priestesses and initiates at the Temple, it was exploring. He loved leaving the borders of Suramar to venture out into the untamed forests that surrounded the town. There was just something about it, the sheer scale and size of the forestry, the gentle rolling of the hills and tempting mystery of the chasms and caves. It was comparable to when he had first learned of the existence of magic: it was all just so, new.

His mother didn't quite like his inquisitive nature. Well that wasn't exactly true. It wasn't that she didn't like him being inquisitive, just that she was worried that his curiosity would inevitably get the better of him and he could wind up lost or even hurt one day. So more often than not Harry ended up sneaking away from the Temple when everyone was more or less preoccupied and ghost his way out into the woods in secret.

When he would slink back home, covered in mud, leaves and twigs all the while smiling like a madman, his mother would simply shake her head in almost resigned amusement before chasing him to the public baths to clean up. She never scolded him excessively nor admonish his antics. She simply asked him to be careful.

And he would. Harry could not bear the very thought of upsetting her even through his own carelessness.

Harry was only fifteen years old currently as he departed his home for another bout out into the wilds. He had pulled his otherwise shoulder length hair back into a pony tail and collected some supplies for a small pack of necessities to take with him. His garb was a far cry from the whites and silvers of his temple apparel that he wore in his day to day lives, having taken to wearing simple brown cloth pants and a sleeveless tunic of a matching color. Clothing that could take the punishment of roughing it out in the wilds and could afford to take the wear and tear of such punishment.

Mother had long since left for the Temple to tend to her duties and while she had asked for him to visit the market and buy food for the evenings meal she knew full well that her dear son would leave it to the last minute in favor of going out on one of his adventures.

Which was exactly what Harry was planning.

It had been something he had been planning to do for months now; explore a particular area of the forest to the north-west of Suramar in Val'Sharah. He had first discovered the almost completely inaccessible region a year past during his hikes.

Giant moss covered rocks too slippery to climb, tightly packed trees and thick, twisting vines covered in thorns made this area beyond impossible to gain access to. He had visited this area several times since then, drawn there by the taste of a magic so raw and old he could never forget it even had he tried. It had long since gone from an idle curiosity to something drawing so close to obsession. He _had_ to know. What lay beyond the natural wall he could not breach? What was this magic that he called out to him that refused to leave his ears even when he was far from that region and within the walls of Suramar?

He had kept it from mother of course. She would have urged him to stay away, reminding him of the stories of his youth she had regaled him with about the age of Azeroth long before the unification. When the Troll empires had dominated the lands and there was no better way for a young Elf to forever vanish than to explore the dark, isolated places of the woods. It was said that it was in these places that the darkest and cruellest of the savage Trolls resided; working their twisted magicks.

She would not believe him if he had tried to explain that what he felt coming from this still unreachable place to be something beyond that of any Troll Sorcerer.

And so, pack secured to his back and securing a small dagger to his belt, the purple skinned Night Elf that was Har'rin 'Harry' Whisperwind set off, leaving the safety of his home and soon after that of Suramar.

It took him no time at all to traverse the land between Suramar and what he had dubbed 'The Wall.' so often had he visited it he knew the path like the back of his hand. Every short cut, every obstacle and roving pack of beast to avoid. It took him barely an hour of running at a steady pace to cross the distance, easily hopping over crevices, fallen trees and river beds. Avoiding a pack of wolves in the midst of a hunt and patiently waiting as a herd of deer crossed his path to avoid spooking them unnecessarily.

When he reached The Wall, Harry let out a long, calming breath, closing his eyes as he almost literally breathed in the magic that filled the air, seeming to emanate from beyond The Wall like a steady beating heart.

Dropping the bag from his shoulders, Harry crouched down and pulled on the drawstring to reach in. pulling out a skin of water, the young Night Elf rose back to his feet, biting on and pulling out the cork before taking a swig, eyeing the wall of trees, moss stone and vines that stretched out before him.

He had studied relentlessly into everything he could get his hands on at home to try and ascertain a means of circumnavigating the obstacle before him. The first thing he had been able to learn was that The Wall was a paradox.

It was unnatural in how impenetrable it was while at the same time being entirely natural in its design and make. There was nothing about it from what he had been able to determine that would hint at any unnatural or artificial enhancement or influence in the growth of the vines or trees and yet everything that he had witnessed before and understood about the natural world screamed at him that plants just didn't grow like this.

Common convention in his studies had strongly suggested in burning his way through with fire. Burn away the trees that blocked his path, the thorns that would bleed him dry and the moss that would deny him. But Harry refused. He would not, could not simply destroy something like this. If he simply burned it away then how would he understand it? Learn how such a thing had been formed. And not only that, but for such a massive natural formation to exist, there had to be a reason right?

Thirst sated, Harry re-corked the water skin and dropped it into his bag and stepped toward the massive wall of plant life. When he came to a stop a mere three feet from a section of trees he shuddered at the heightened feel of the magical 'heart beat' that washed out from the other side of the natural barrier.

It was a heady sensation; one that briefly left him dizzy as his skin tingled as if sudden but brief chill had washed over his body. Stepping forward, Harry reached out with a hand, pressing against the rough bark of the closest tree and leaning forward as he steadied himself, calming his breathing and refocusing his attention away from the sensation that had washed over him. He had to focus! There was no time nor point in lingering on limited euphoria the magic temporarily had put upon him. It was a magic unknown to him and one of a power beyond any he had felt before at Suramar and thus the only reason as to how his body was reacting in such a manner.

If he wished to know more, to experience more then he first had to pass this barrier and progress further to whatever lay beyond.

Steadying his breath, calming his mind and rejuvenating his focus, Harry's golden eyes briefly widened in surprise and snapped up to his hand that was pressed against the tree before him. It was like a gentle scratch against the palm of his hand, almost as if something lay beneath his hand and was seeking to go further than the limits of his own skin was allowing.

Pulling his hand back Harry spared a glance at his own hand before turning to examine the bark of the tree itself. There was no insect or critter present to give reason to the scratching sensation. No deformation in the bark itself so as to give sign to a parasite or creature still within the tree itself. Carefully, and almost hesitatingly, he replaced his hand back against the bark of the tree, closing his eyes slowly as he focused outward and toward the connecting point between his body and the great tree.

There! He felt it again. The faintest of scratching against the palm of his hand. Not from any insect or woodland creature, this was too uniform and spread out. It was like, like a thousand hair thin tendrils were growing out from the tree itself and seeking, something, within him.

Curiously and with the greatest of care, Harry reached out with his own magical power, reaching out to meet these tendrils as he considered them. He could not match the shape or quantity of what he felt against his hand wit his own magic, but he did manage to make the smallest expression of his own power meet the foreign power as 'loose' as possible. Almost porous in a manner of speaking so as to allow these tendrils of whatever to gain entry and latch on.

Of course he was not so foolish as to blindly allow such an unknown so strong a grasp on his very essence. No, he made sure to be able to separate and eject the magic he was using to 'interface' with the tree quickly and completely should the situation require it.

When the tendrils of natural magic? Yes, Natural Magic. When they met his reciprocating magic, they spread out and interacted with him. When it happened, Harry's eyes snapped open wide and all breath left him as his senses seemed to explode open. Gone was the simple perspective of a mere Kaldorei, a Night Elf standing before a vast and massive barrier of trees and plant life. The whole forest seemed to open up before him. Every tree, bush, field of grass and twisting river of water. He saw them all. He saw how a single trickle of water several hundred yards to his south twisted its way into a more steady stream a few more miles east which in turn journeyed north into a wide river that met with a number of sizeable lakes to the far north at the very roof of the world.

More than any of that though. He saw the large ring of forestry that was The Wall. The great circle of giant trees, twisting thorned vines and colossal moss covered rocks. And the power that filled each and ever inch of them all.

A great power that pulsed into each and every tree, vine and rock from both the pulsing heart beat of magic at the center of the clearing that this Wall protected and from the very earth itself.

As quick as it came. It left just as sudden. Harry's awareness shrank back in on himself and his eyes regained their focus.

Blinking away the haze that had filled his mind from such, acute awareness, Harry kneaded at his forehead idly before returning his attention and gaze back to the natural barrier before him. Only to blink and take a step back in shock. It was different.

It had been an impenetrable wall of greenery, completely impassable with its trunk to trunk giant trees, slippery boulders and flesh rending thorn covered vines. That had been what Harry had seen and what he had been trying to determine a means of bypassing.

But now, now it was gone. The thorn covered vines were completely vanished as if they had never even existed. Several trees were just as similarly missing and the number of stone protrusions had halved with only sparse moss to cover their surface.

Sunlight streamed through the large gaps and pathways that he could now see through to what appeared to be a small valley. A small stream gently ran down from the other side of the valley into an almost moat-like pond that surrounded a small island that was dominated only by a beautiful tree with deep green leaves and long thin vines of hanging lavender flowers that reached down far enough to caress the waters below.

Great roots twisted their way around the valley, sloping out of the ground in smooth arcs with large flowers of differing colors blooming brightly in the light that scattered through the canopy overhead.

It was, perfect.

It was a curious feeling, to finally see the path ahead of him open and be free to explore further as he had wished all along. And yet, to feel hesitation in actually stepping forward. As if in some part he would be tainting such untouched land before him by his footsteps.

"Fear not child. You will not sully my grove with your presence."

Like his pants had spontaneously caught fire, Harry shot up into the air and spun around in surprise, eyes wide at the suddenness of the voice that had spoken to him and hand reaching for the dagger at his hip.

When his gaze met that of the speaker he felt his mouth go dry and the sudden urge to look away come over him.

The, being, was massive. Standing upwards of around fifteen feet in height, this, man, had the lower body of a great stag with a blanket of leaves and vines draped over the back. His upper body was that of a Night Elf male. Powerful and muscled with his left arm ending in a long taloned hand of wood and bark. He had leaves braided into his long black hair and deep green eyes that quite literally glowed with power and ancient wisdom and two large antlers jutting out from the sides of his head.

"Peace child." The being urged gently, holding his powerful arms up, hands open wide in a gesture of calm. "I mean you no ill will but in fact welcome you to my home."

Harry remained silent. Narrowing his eyes slightly as he examined the being before him more carefully. Already he could sense the same incredible power flowing through this 'man' with a potency that was honestly frightening.

If the magic he had briefly connected to was the magic of the world. Then this man _was_ the world.

"I have watched you several times young one." The man continued, seemingly not at all bothered by Harry's defensive stance or mistrust. "Across the span of several years you have journeyed out from behind the shelter and safety of your elven walls to explore the untamed wilds of Azeroth. A curiosity in your eyes very dissimilar to that of your kin."

The young Kaldorei calmed his breathing and lowered his blade, shifting his feet carefully before he slowly sheathed it back at his side. If this being intended him harm then there would be very little a mere child of an elf armed with little more than a knife could do to stop him.

"I must confess I did not believe I would see one who would have the disposition to touch however briefly with the wonders of nature to see through the Dream I surrounded my home with."

At this Harry blinked. Confused by the terminology used to describe The Wall. "Dream?"

A good question if the wide smile to form on the stag-elfs' face was any indication.

"Yes. The natural barrier you experienced that barred entry into my home that now sits open before you was but a fragment of a greater, more primordial realm that exists beyond the world you see in your every day life. I simply beckoned this Emerald Dream to visit itself upon the world. When you allowed yourself to open up to the natural magics of the Dream, however unintentionally, the barrier did not simply vanish, more so you have come to a greater truth that there was never anything truly barring your way to begin with."

"An illusion, of nature." Harry mused aloud, processing the explanation several times over as he turned away from the entity to look back at where The Wall had once resided. With a brief flicker of concentration and effort he summoned forth the memory how how it had felt when he had interacted with the 'tree'.

Before his very eyes The Wall flickered back into view and existence before him, the streaming light vanishing as it was once more blocked from sight before returning as the barrier vanished once more.

Unseen behind him, the giant man's eyes widened in amazement as he felt what the fifteen year old was doing. Never before would he have considered the very idea that he would witness a mere child of one of the Kaldorei people capable of wilfully taping into the Emerald Dream after but a single experience with it.

"Very impressive. But wasteful." The being responded with a nod of the head. "You need not flood your entire being with the presence of the Dream when simply your eyes and mind are enough for the simple task of separating the layers of this world and the Dream that rests above it."

He felt another bout of satisfaction come over him when the golden eyed child before him considered his words for a brief second before nodding in understanding. This young elf did not take everything as absolute truth it seemed, rather taking it in and comparing it against his own experiencing before moving on.

"Tell me young one. What is the name you bear?"

Harry looked up to the great entity. "Har'rin Whisperwind."

"Well met. I greet you, Har'rin Whisperwind, as Cenarius; Keeper of the Grove."

XxxXxxXxxX

**A/N:**

**So chapters will be a bit on the short side starting in for this story. This is due to techinically being in what we would consider the 'Prologue Arc.' we are setting up the world that Harry is finding himself in as well as who Harry himself is becoming. Chapter content will get longer as events progress so please be patient.**

**As always: read, REVIEW!, fav, follow, REVIEW AGAIN!**

**There is a schedule (I won't bother repeating its order at this time any more), which should see a chapter coming out at least once a month, maybe sooner if the mood strikes us. If you want more sooner then review more and more.**

**Please enjoy the flag ship of our writing and be gentle :D**


	3. I Once Had A Dream

_Disclaimer: The following story is a fan-made creation. I do not own Harry Potter, Blizzard, Warcraft or any other fandom that may or may not pop up. Please support the original material._

"My destiny is of my own making." Speech.

"_I remember the time..._" _Flashback speech. Spellcraft._

"**When your people huddled in caves I was there.**" Greater being speech.

"█▄██▄▄█▄▄█▄" Inarticulate roar/scream etc.

XxxXxxXxxX

_Previously:_

"_Very impressive. But wasteful." The being responded with a nod of the head. "You need not flood your entire being with the presence of the Dream when simply your eyes and mind are enough for the simple task of separating the layers of this world and the Dream that rests above it."_

_He felt another bout of satisfaction come over him when the golden eyed child before him considered his words for a brief second before nodding in understanding. This young elf did not take everything as absolute truth it seemed, rather taking it in and comparing it against his own experiencing before moving on._

"_Tell me young one. What is the name you bear?"_

_Harry looked up to the great entity. "Har'rin Whisperwind."_

"_Well met. I greet you, Har'rin Whisperwind, as Cenarius; Keeper of the Grove."_

XxxXxxXxxX

**-15,725 D.P**

A great deal had happened for Harry since that first meeting with the Keeper of the Grove; Cenarius near two hundred and sixty years ago. The then fifteen year old Night Elf had found himself often returning to the Grove where the great Wild God would always greet him with a smile and warm welcome.

From the very beginning Cenarius took Harry into his care and taught him the wonders of their shared world. Under the guidance of the ancient being, Harry learned how to navigate his way through the wilds of Azeroth and even how to venture into the deepest most dangerous parts of the world safely and beyond the notice of the creatures that roamed its lands.

He learned how to track across great distances and with the barest of signs. Which plants were edible and which were now. Which roots, flowers and leaves made for good reagents to brew concoctions of restoration.

Cenarius taught him how to survive.

His mother had noticed his frequent trips out to Val'Sharah a month into his new routine of visiting the Keeper. She had, ad first, been reluctant to allow her son to wander so carelessly beyond the safety of Suramars' walls but had ultimately allowed him his freedoms. While not truly known to the Kaldorei; Cenarius was spoken of fondly in the circles of rumor and folklore concerning the ancient spirits.

The chief disruption to Harry's life that came as a result of his adventures out into the wilds on a frequent basis was the deterioration of his relationships towards his friends. While not a secret in the strictest sense nor forbidden from speaking of it, Harry never really delved into what it was he was doing beyond Suramar's walls to his childhood friends. He made no mention of his friendship with the Wild God Cenarius nor attempted to involve them in the wonders of the wilds he had discovered.

They would not have enjoyed it as much as he was.

In time they all went their separate ways. Finding the paths of their future in different places. Most of his female friends found themselves following in the steps of their own mothers or mentors in joining the Sisterhood to become Initiates while the few boys he knew as a child either went on to join one of the magical academies in Nar'Thalas or Suramar itself, or enlisted into military service.

In truth, they all left him behind. Two hundred and seventy five years old and all those he had known as a child were off to become adults in society while he himself was left behind to flit around the forest like a child.

But Harry didn't cast any blame for this. He did not judge his friends for their choices nor did he consider himself childish for not doing something similar. For in truth, he had long since started himself on a path of his own choosing.

Long before even the oldest of his friends, a young woman by the name of Thesia had applied for and been accepted into the Sisterhood to become a priestess, Harry had, at the mere age of fifty been accepted by Cenarius himself to learn the mysterious knowledge of the Emerald Dream.

Druidism as Cenarius had called it.

It was a fascinating practice. To discover the raw power and wonder that lay beyond the reaches of the physical world that not only fuelled the growth and vitality of the natural world, but empowered its very tenacity and strength. The potential of not only an entire world of life, but the sum total of its entire potential past, present and future.

But it was slow going. A far cry from the arcane arts in their relatively expedient lessons and total education. In the span of a complete first level arcane education of twenty years Harry had only learned how to successfully commune with the natural world and glimpse the Emerald Dream that lay beyond.

After a full hundred years, he had learned how to coax the spirits of the wilds from their trees and commune with them individually and intimately.

Even now, in his two hundred and twenty fifth year of learning at the feet of Cenarius, Harry was still to learn how to properly direct and encourage natural growth and how to direct it to his desires.

Slow going for a magical path that had yielded so little when others who had studied for not even half that time were already displaying clear and obvious power.

But that bothered Harry none. He understood and knew a simple truth. The most worthwhile things were never obtained easily.

Currently the young Night Elf was in the region of Azsuna just east of Nar'thalas in an isolated glen filled with wildflowers of all colors of the rainbow.

It was Elune's Day coming up; the day where the mothers of Kaldorei society were honored by their children for their love and care.

Without fail Harry always made sure to honor his mother above all else for this day. He knew just how important it had been for her the day she had discovered her pregnancy with him, the joy she had felt when he had been born. It brought a smile to his own face and warmth to his heart to see that joy and love in her eyes renewed.

This year it was to be particularly special. He had been able to, with some measure of cunning and prodding, encourage Shan'do Cenarius in directing his lessons toward what he had intended for this day.

He held no illusions that the ancient god knew full well the young Whisperwinds ultimate goal evident in the knowing smirk every day when he had shown himself at the glade for his lessons. But on the whole Cenarius had been content in playing the fool and allowing Harry his fantasy of successful subterfuge.

Against expected convention, Harry was not picking the various flowers that blossomed in the clearing but carefully and meticulously collecting samples of pollen from various flowers. A small satchel hung from a looped strap secured diagonally across his chest filled with crystal vials several already occupied by small pinches of glittering dust like pollen of differing colors. A couple, having been collected from more potent and empowered flowers glowed with their lingering natural magical power.

It was surprisingly delicate work and a testament to the knowledge and skills imparted upon him from his teacher Cenarius. Harry wasn't simply plucking a flower and crudely scraping its pollen out and into a vial. Rather he was coaxing a small amount using his connection to the natural world via the Dream. The bare minimum the flower could spare while maintaining the amount it required to reproduce which on its own was not enough for a stable sample size which necessitated the collection of multiples of the same flower pollen for a single sample.

The difficulty came in not only convincing the flowers of his desires, but making his desires clear. There was no spirit or sentience within flowers; so small they were, to persuade so he had to work in cooperation with the wisps of Azsuna to determine how much, if any, pollen could safely be taken from each flower he came to. Wisps didn't communicate in words or understand any system of measurement used by the mortal races so it was taking some time to translate the impressions of images, sounds and emotion that were flowing through him.

And there was also the distracting factor of his watcher.

Whomever it was, they had been watching him for some time now; ever since he had left the walls of Suramar and left the marble stone highways for the wilds beyond.

It was a nature spirit of some sort; the feeling of the Emerald Dream wafting from his watcher powerfully. In fact were it not for his watchers nimble dexterity in maintaining watch over him as he twisted through the terrain that he himself had barely been able to squeeze through he would have considered it to be one of the Ancient Protectors otherwise known as simply the Ancients; the sentient and wizened tree spirits that wandered the forests under Cenarius' care. Perhaps the Ancient of the Arcane; Crystalbark. That particular ancient had taken a liking to him in the last century; often seeking him out to engage Harry in academic argument in the connections linking the various magical natures of Azeroth and their commonality.

According to Crystalbark himself; Harry as a mortal had a unique perspective toward the subject matter that the Ancient found invaluable.

But back to the matter at hand; his watcher. It was no ancient. Too small and agile, even for Treants; the sapling forms of the older, wiser Ancients.

The wisps of the valley were also aware of his little stalker and it was amusing to watch as they flitted about, dancing in between flowers only to linger a fraction of a moment whenever they passed his watcher's hiding place.

The greenish-black haired Night Elf sincerely hoped that his tracker wasn't under any delusions of their secrecy and was choosing to maintain their 'stealth' out of stubborn pride.

It was irrelevant in the end though. Watcher or no, Harry was here to complete a task of his own making and he had neither the time, patience nor need to concern himself with the motivations of whomever had taken it upon themselves to follow him and watch over his actions.

With a soft smile of satisfaction, the young elf nodded in appreciation toward a nearby Wisp that had aided him in extracting this last sample of pollen from a grouping of Lilies that grew along the bank of a small, ankle deep stream that trickled through the valley from a nearby river. Sending out a wave of gratitude and fraction of his own magical power to the Wisp as thanks for its aid, Harry stoppered the vial that was now sufficiently filled with the Lily pollen before storing it safely in his satchel across his chest before readjusting it, shifting the strap around so the satchel was secured at his back now.

Standing up, Harry stretched out wide, arms outstretched as he took a brief moment to enjoy the cool, crisp air brushing against his bare skin. The simple black tunic he had been wearing when he left Suramar two days ago was hanging from his waist. His dark brown pants were stained at the knees from kneeling in grass so long. He had lost his shoes shortly after leaving Suramar, the apparel succumbing to both wear and tear when they had slipped free during mid leap over a fast moving river. The straps of his boots had snapped and fallen free to splash in the river only to be swept away.

Harry was partially dreading his mothers reaction when he returned home finally for her to see him walking around bare foot like some kind of vagabond.

Brushing his hands across his chest, knocking loose a few leaves and motes of dirt that had stuck to his sweat coated chest from the breeze, Harry cast his eyes across the valley one last time. The gentle breeze washing across the landscape causing the grass and flowers to ripple and flow against it; like the lapping waves of the ocean.

There was nothing more here that required his presence here so Harry made his way out of the glen, following the trickling stream back up to the river that journeyed from Nar'thalas to The Great Lake of Suramar. The waters there were pure and rich with magic, both natural and arcane as a byproduct of Kaldorei influence. It would be sufficient in providing the sustenance to ensure the vitality and success of his project.

His Watcher followed of course. Skirting around the edge of the valley; using tree cover to hide from his eyes, and Harry made sure as to limit his gait so as to not outpace and lose his observer who was forced to take a slower, wider route.

It was childish in a sense, but he was enjoying this little game of hide and seek, in fact he could almost swear to sense similar emotions wafting from his stalker; feelings of enjoyment and mischief tempered in along with curiosity and a small amount of suspicion.

It was to the intention of luring in his tracker, interest in tripping them up and forcing them out of hiding that when he did arrive at the river, he chose a spot by its banks specifically closer to the forest line where the trees and bushes skirted closer to the point were there was only a few precious feet between their border and his location.

As he reached up and removed the satchel and its harness from his chest, crouching down to place it gently at his side, that he smothered a smirk of victory when he sensed this one come to 'hide' in the bushes almost directly behind him.

Returning his focus to where it was needed, Harry opened the small bag and removed first a small ceramic pot; barely bigger than his own fist, and placed it gently on the ground before him.

Once there, he shifted his position to seat himself down on the ground properly, legs folded.

Three fists full of earth were scooped up into his hands and poured into the pot followed by the druid-in-training brushing his hand over the top to sweep away any excess so that it was level with the pots lip.

Once done, Harry rest his open palm gently over the surface of the now dirt filled pot, eyes closing softly as he cast his focus out into the world of Azeroth; calling on the Dream and the spirits of the wilds that occupied both worlds.

As was common and easy with him, the energies of the Emerald Dream answered him swiftly and like the greetings of an old friend; rushing around and into him until very little separation between the entity that was Har'rin Whisperwind and the Dream existed. From there it was an almost heart beat-like wave of green that pulsed outward from his hand, enveloping the earth filled pot. Each pulse covered the entire pot only to be absorbed into the earth by the time of the next. Which in turn was absorbed for the next. And the next. And the next.

It was nearly a full hour of this, filling the collected earth with the raw power of the Emerald Dream to the point where the light brown color of the dirt had shifted into a dark brown, almost black, color; its composition almost completely now consisting of Dream-matter.

When he at last stopped and opened his eyes, the golden orbs briefly burning with the power of the sun itself before the energies of the Dream left him, he felt something different.

Well, three things really. The first was small fawn, barely a summer old curled up against his side fast asleep, head resting on his lap as the babe took in his warmth. The second and third were more; significant.

The second was the inhale and exhale of air brushing past his right ear followed by the third; which was the presence of an individual leaning over his shoulder with no concern towards the very concept of personal space.

Harry felt a small smile creep its way onto his face as he shifted his head to the side to consider the now revealed presence of his stalker. _She_, it seemed, had finally been unable to restrain herself in maintaining the game of trying to hide from him and had emerged out sometime during his work to more closely watch what exactly it was he was doing.

Now that he could see her, he found himself momentarily stunned by her beauty. With the sleek, slender lower body of a Doe and the upper body of a Night Elven female, she was clearly in some way related to Cenarius. Long, flowing leaf like green hair and a pair of curved horns jutting out from her forehead she had honey golden eyes that were currently filled with awe and wonder.

Garbed only in a brassiere made of leaves and vines to preserve her modesty she was, beautiful.

A Dryad. Harry remembered Shand'o Cenarius telling him about them. His daughters and grand-daughters; Children born of his seed and connection to the Emerald Dream. While mainly the daughters of Cenarius's sons, the Lord of the Forests had proudly stated that he had been fortunate enough to have a few daughters himself. Given the sheer vitality and power resonating from her there was no way she was anything less than directly related to his Shand'o. A daughter.

And by Elune, was she beautiful. He had known a few women in Suramar who had been incredibly captivating in their own right. But this Dryad, was something, more. So beautiful to the point of breathtaking to his eyes.

"How did you do that?"

By Elune, even her voice was alluring.

The Dryad shifted, her face pressing against his in her eagerness to see more of the ceramic pot of Dream infused earth. Not noticing the attention of the young Elf on her.

"My father can conjure parts of the Emerald Dream over the landscape of Azeroth in isolated areas. But even then it is in only very small instances and temporary at that." The Dryad spoke, hooves shifting with excited energy as her hands came up to grasp at his shoulders to steady herself. "But this, this is permanent. You pulled out a piece of the Dream and made it an enduring part of this world. How?"

Harry said nothing for a moment, words temporarily failing him. How was it that this woman had him acting like a blushing virgin. He might not be a true adult according to his own culture, but he was nearly three hundred years old. he'd known women before. So why in Elune's name was this Dryad affecting him like this?

"Well?"

Harry licked his lips nervously before reaching forward to gently picking up the pot, cradling it almost as if the very wind itself could blow it to pieces. "A-as I was taught, the Emerald Dream exists parallel to this world. Multiple layers of primordial sub-reality and raw natural power leftover from when this world was first Ordered. My studies under Shand'o Cenarius have taught me a great deal in not only drawing power from the Emerald Dream and travelling to and from it, but also about the natural entryways throughout Azeroth."

The Dryad nodded in understanding. "Yes father has told me as much. There are sites; great trees across Azeroth that The Dreamer grew as gateways to the Emerald Dream. All guarded by her children and watched over by my brothers."

Harry nodded. "Yes. And each of these portals are surrounded by a notable increase in vitality to the wild; both plant and animal life. This is due to the miasma of the dream seeping into the soil surrounding the portals. What I did was replicate the same effects but on a smaller scale."

"What do you intend to grow?"

Harry smiled and reached over to his satchel and lifted it to his lap, opening it to show the crystal vials of pollen samples he had collected to the woman still leaning over him. "I intend to cross pollinate these samples into a single, original species."

The Dryad's eyes nearly fell out of her head at this. "W-What?! T-that's not possible! Even if you could manage to meld the differing natural elements of each mote of pollen you would need to cultivate this new species in both the physical realm as well as the Emerald Dream at the same time or else it would perish."

Harry nodded in agreement. "Yes that is true. For every plant and aspect of the wild that exists on Azeroth so too does a reflection of it reside within the Primordial depths of the Emerald Dream. That is why I will need to create, complete and cultivate the seed simultaneously while in both Azeroth and the Dream."

The green haired Dryad looked at him in bewilderment; mouth opening and closing soundlessly as she tried and failed to voice, anything, in response to this. She was speechless. What this young Night Elf was proposing was far beyond anything her father had spoken of in regards to both the Emerald Dream and the capabilities of Druidism. It would take power beyond any of her brothers and sisters were capable of. Even Cenarius himself would face considerable difficulty in such an endeavour.

Taking the silence from the Dryad as an end to her queries, Harry proceeded with his task. Reaching in, he pulled out the various samples he had painstakingly collected over the course several weeks. Eight small ampules; each containing different colored motes of pollen that each glowed a soft light with the natural and mystical magics they contained. A flick of his thumb saw their corks removed systematically and with gentle, almost loving care, he tipped each sample out into the air.

Where they should have fallen, each of the eight pollen samples simply gathered in the air before him; eight small orbs of glittering color and light, the gentle wind and steadily thickening atmosphere of power growing and growing with each passing second. With the eighth and final orb of pollen floating before him, Harry slowly and methodically returned the vials to his satchel before returning it to his side. The presence of the Dryad over his shoulder had since been forgotten and the sleeping fawn at his side had only nestled its head deeper into his form contently.

The young Elf's eyes closed shut, golden light still burning like the sun even through his eyelids as he placed his hands in his lap, cupped together to form a bowl.

Breath in. The trees groaned in the wind.

Breath out. The river bubbled over rocks.

Breath in. The sunlight dimmed as it hit and filtered through a green tinged field that formed several feet out.

Breath out. Twisting, gnarled roots faded into being around him, twisting like vines.

Breath in. a sharp intake of breath, distant, unimportant by his side.

Breath out.

The eight pollen orbs were by this point more akin to simple globes of pure light as they began to orbit the body of the Druid-in-training, their lights pulsing like a heartbeat with each pulse growing brighter and brighter.

Another breath and the Dream had fully manifested itself at the riverbank. The air itself had since taken a green tinge with even the soft beams of sunlight that breached the limits of the Dream's influence taking the same emerald hue. Harry's form had become beaded with perspiration; fatigue creeping up on him from the strenuous undertaking.

At an unseen signal one of the eight lights came to a stop directly before Harry's face, barely a foot from his nose before it gently floated down to rest within the cup of his hands.

A moment later and the second joined it in his hands. With the addition of the second orb of light the color shifted to a darkened silver with motes of white light flickering through almost like starlight.

Over the course of the following hour, each of the other six lights would follow the path of the first two, coming to a stop before Harry and then drifting down to join their fellows in his hands. Each time a light joined the others the silver coloring would grow brighter and brighter.

By the end, with the accumulated light held within his hands, the orb of light was no longer contained to its marble sized shape but rather it filled the entirety of the space within his grasp, pulsing with a steady heartbeat.

A heartbeat later and Harry moved for the first time in an hour. He raised his hands up, still cupped together to hold the steadily pulsing light, arms shaking from fatigue and exertion, and slowly, carefully, pressed them together.

Pushing the light in on itself, compressing it together as he poured every ounce of remaining energy and power collected from the Emerald Dream through his core, to his arms, his hands and then into the shrinking light.

His whole body started to shake more and more violently the further he compressed the light before, without warning, he collapsed.

The fragment of the Emerald Dream vanished in an instant, returning to the greater Dream near instantaneously without the tether holding it in place. The potent miasma of power that had been breathed into the area faded away and the lights and sounds of Azeroth returned.

The sleeping fawn had jolted awake at the suddenness of it all and fled.

And the Dryad that had been there, watching in awe at the entire event squeaked in surprise before catching the completely drained and unconscious Har'rin Whisperwind, staring wide eyed at what was clutched in his right hand.

A single golden seed. Fully formed. Completely real.

XxxX

Consciousness came back to him slowly. Muted sounds, someone talking? Two voices; one deep and rich with power while the other was light and musical.

Harry pulled in a breath as he lay, wherever he was. His memory was foggy. He recalled the last thing he did before passing out; success in his desire to create the seed that he would gift to his mother. But what followed, confused him.

He remembered green. The telltale landscape of the Emerald Dream was undeniable. But he could not firmly recall anything else as his disembodied spirit wandered it. A being of great power, large and as vast as the Dream itself. Eyes, watching him, lidded and old. And then? Nothing.

"...nderstand Father, it should not be possible. I keep look at it and I can see that it exists in both the Emerald Dream and here in the material plane." The musical voice.

"Yes, I am aware my child. You have made your confusion well known to me for several days now." The powerful voice.

"But it's impossible! Not even you could do such a thing. To essentially craft new and stable life? It just can't be done!"

A deep, rumbling laughter. "And yet, it is. You are correct of course. Before today I would have told you that such a thing would be impossible. Never before would I even consider such a possibility. But, to see it now. I can understand how my Thero'shan managed such a thing. It is very possible I may even be able to replicate the ritual."

"What do you mean you'd never consider it a possibility?"

Harry's eyes squinted open, the conversation drawing him further and further back to the world of the living. His golden eyes peered through the still lingering gaze to see the powerful form of Cenarius smiling widely, his own gold eyes shining with a joyful pride.

"Ah but that, dear daughter, is the greatest source of strength belonging to the one called Har'rin Whisperwind. He does not accept the world as it is, but instead questions why it is as it is. If I had told him that this was futile he would not simply believe me, he would ask why and determine for himself the validity of my words or as it is in this case, prove me wrong."

"But-"

"Hush now, it seems he has finally awoken."

With a quite groan of exertion, Harry heaved himself up on his elbows before bringing himself to a seated position.

Only to crash back down when a purple and green blur literally smacked into him with the force of a landslide.

That face, that perfectly beautiful face and bright gold eyes locked onto his own as the Dryad grabbed him by the shoulders and started shaking him madly.

"You're not dead! Good I have so many questions. How did you do that? What madness possessed you to think you could even pull that off? How did you pull in that much power without dying? Why didn't you die? I'm so glad your not dead. Why aren't you answering me!?"

Another rumble of laughter saw Harry look up at a highly amused Cenarius with an almost accusatory glare. The bliss of unconsciousness was looking good at this point with how intensely the Dryad was shaking him. As if she was trying to literally shake the answers free from his body.

Finally the Keeper of the Wilds stepped forward, reaching out with his wooden arm toward the pair. "Calm yourself daughter, I fear you will get nothing from young Har'rin if you continue to shake him like that."

Thankfully his words had some effect as the shaking lessened as she turned to look up to her father with a confused expression. "Are you sure? I thought mortal races responded to tactile connection when talking?"

The ancient Keeper smothered another laugh as he reached down to gently pull the Dryad away from the lightheaded and dizzy Night Elf. "To a somewhat lesser degree you will find daughter. Now why don't we let Har'rin onto his feet and get some food into him, he is most likely quite hungry by now. Answers can come later."

Harry had to resist the urge to squeak when he saw the Dryad somehow both glare at him as if everything was his fault while also pouting at her father.

Finally, just moments before he started to squirm under the heat of her gaze, the Dryad finally turned away with a huff to walk across the glade he had awoken in.

Cenarius just smiled in a fond amusement before turning away to look down to him.

"Are you well young Har'rin? No lingering weakness?"

The young Kaldorei shook his head as he picked himself up from the bedding of moss he had been placed on and rose to his feet, taking a moment to steady himself and clear the cobwebs still clouding his mind before returning his own attention to his teacher.

"Just a momentary fatigue from rest. Thank you for your concern Shand'o." the young elf bowed at the shoulders before quickly snapping a hand up.

An apple smacked into the open palm of his hand and he turned around quickly and ducked his head to the side when another apple flew by, just narrowly missing his ear. Harry blinked when he saw the Dryad holding maybe a half dozen apples in one arm with her other already raised to throw another at him, her own eyes narrowed at him.

"Ah, you will have to forgive Lunara; she is still young and has not yet had the opportunity to know you as I have." Cenarius explained, reaching out himself to snatch a flying apple as it ricocheted off the purple elf's forehead. "She has yet to see just how surprising you can be in taking in my lessons and surpassing them."

Harry couldn't stop the blush that came over him at the praise, ducking his head and biting into his apple in an attempt to distract himself from the approval his mentor was showing him. He had never been one to stand in the spotlight, it was, not uncomfortable, but made him feel awkward; as if he were some faker pretending to be someone far better than he was. There were times that he felt as if Cenarius was fully aware of this and praised him at times just to make fun.

By now the Dryad; Lunara, had given up on hurling fruit at him and had seated herself a distance away by the creek that flowed through Cenarius' grove, eating at her own apple and very clearing pretending he no longer existed given that she had completely turned to face away from him. It was distracting somewhat in that even now Harry could not help but take note of the beauty in how she held herself. It was definitely something more than just physical appeal in this attraction he was feeling. He had no explanation for it and that in itself was unwelcome to him.

"But I must confess Thero'shan; I am disappointed that you would take such a risk without first alerting me to your intentions." Cenarius reproached sternly, his golden eyes hardening in concern. "I cannot impress upon you enough to tell you how fortuitous you are to have survived such an undertaking. My daughter has shown to me the fruits of your labor and I understand now that you would have been required to channel far more power from the Emerald Dream than your body and spirit is currently capable of. In all honesty; you should be dead."

Harry blinked at the bluntness of the Great Druid. He had understood the risks of what he had done long before he had undertaken the ritual. Or at least, he had thought he understood them. He didn't believe he would have _died_. His worst case scenario would had only been limited to perhaps burning himself out, maybe some form of immolation via mystical power. Not _Death._

"The Emerald Dream is a realm and power possessing vast energy." Cenarius continued, holding his arms outstretched as a halo of vibrant green power washed over his form. "It is the power of all that Azeroth has been, is and ever will be."

Lunara had, at this, returned her attention back to the student-teacher pair, drawn to the expression of natural magic her father had released.

"As such, no creature; not you, not myself, not even the great Aspect of the Dream; Lady Ysera herself can take in even a fraction of this power without consequence." Cenarius released the power he had gathered and in a single pulse, flowers and saplings bloomed within the glade. "You _must_ be mindful of this. Never reach beyond your limit without first understanding what waits for you there. I could not bear to learn of your death because of it."

Harry nodded slowly, shame showing on his face as he lowered his eyes to look from his teacher to the grass at his feet. "I understand. Forgive me Shand'o."

Cenarius smiled at his student and approached him to place a powerful hand on the young elf's shoulder. "It is the privilege of the young to make mistakes and the burden of the old to temper them. Simply heed my words and continue to grow as you have."

The young druid-in-training nodded as his straightened his form, returning his golden eyes to meet that of his mentors. "But, how will I know my limits to be sure not to make this mistake again?"

A bark of laughter shot out of the now widely smiling Keeper of the Grove as he lifted his hand to clap it soundly back down on the Night Elf's shoulder, staggering the smaller man. "That, my young student, is for you to learn on your own."

Harry suppressed the urge to groan. It couldn't be simple now could it?

"Now I would love nothing more than for you to go over exactly what you did and how you performed such a miracle. But I imagine your mother will be quite concerned with you. It has been a week since Lunara brought you back to my Grove after all."

Harry's eyes widened before he went deathly pale.

'_A Week?! Elune's Tears! Mother is going to skin me alive._' He mentally cried; already mentally conjuring the image of the monstrous form of his mother waiting at home, darkness in her eyes.

"Come, Lunara will bring you your things; including that wondrous seed you created and escort you home. Perhaps during the trip you can make up for what wrong you have done to her."

Harry narrowed his eyes and glared up at his mentor. "Wrong _I _have done? I haven't done an Elune Damned thing!"

Cenarius just smiled before shaking his head as he turned and walked off. "Ah my dear naive Har'rin. You will learn, in time, that in matters like this. It is always your fault."

XxxXxxXxxX

**A/N:**

**So chapters will be a bit on the short side starting in for this story. This is due to techinically being in what we would consider the 'Prologue Arc.' we are setting up the world that Harry is finding himself in as well as who Harry himself is becoming. Chapter content will get longer as events progress so please be patient.**

**As always: read, REVIEW!, fav, follow, REVIEW AGAIN!**

**There is a schedule (I won't bother repeating its order at this time any more), which should see a chapter coming out at least once a month, maybe sooner if the mood strikes us. If you want more sooner then review more and more.**

**Please enjoy the flag ship of our writing and be gentle :D**


	4. Unlikely Pair

_Disclaimer: The following story is a fan-made creation. I do not own Harry Potter, Blizzard, Warcraft or any other fandom that may or may not pop up. Please support the original material._

"My destiny is of my own making." Speech.

"_I remember the time..._" _Flashback speech. Spellcraft._

"**When your people huddled in caves I was there.**" Greater being speech.

"█▄██▄▄█▄▄█▄" Inarticulate roar/scream etc.

XxxXxxXxxX

_Previously:_

'_A Week?! Elune's Tears! Mother is going to skin me alive.' He mentally cried; already mentally conjuring the image of the monstrous form of his mother waiting at home, darkness in her eyes._

"_Come, Lunara will bring you your things; including that wondrous seed you created and escort you home. Perhaps during the trip you can make up for what wrong you have done to her."_

_Harry narrowed his eyes and glared up at his mentor. "Wrong I have done? I haven't done an Elune Damned thing!"_

_Cenarius just smiled before shaking his head as he turned and walked off. "Ah my dear naive Har'rin. You will learn, in time, that in matters like this. It is always your fault."_

XxxXxxXxxX

**-15,550 D.P**

For almost one hundred and eighty years, ever since the first-born daughter of Cenarius had walked with him back to the borders of Suramar after their first meeting; Harry and Lunara had been nigh inseparable.

He had taken the time it took to travel from the Grove of Cenarius back to his home of Suramar to explain what he had done to create the seed that had grown into an immortal flower he had dubbed 'Elune's Grace'; a flower that would bloom for ten months out of the year only to die and be reborn anew. His mother had loved it.

Lunara had been in awe at his reasoning behind the theory and possible application he had described that had lead him to create the ritual she had been lucky enough to bear witness to.

After that she had calmed down and forgiven him.

Since then, and after the punishment his mother Salaenia had enforced upon him for worrying her for that passed week, he spent nearly every moment that he wasn't training with Cenarius exploring and playing with the shining light that was Lunara. More often than not she even intruded upon his lessons and sat in to learn alongside him. Something that Cenarius himself had put in a valiant attempt not to smile at and poke fun at the oblivious Harry for.

Together, with Harry in his druidic form of a Nightsaber, the unlikely pair of Night Elf and Dryad had explored across nearly the entire length and breadth of Azeroth.

They had visited the sacred mountain of Hyjal; the birthplace of the Kaldorei people. Spied on the Pandaran people in the Vale of Eternal Blossoms to the south. They had even sneaked their way passed the Highborne security perimeter to sit at the shores of the Well of Eternity itself to watch the sun set on its waters.

Together the pair had planned on exploring the Emerald Dream itself as their next adventure; Lunara wanting to show him his homeland as it was before his people had developed their vast and majestic cities. However the beautiful Dryad had been unable to take him into the dream due to needing to tend to her own responsibilities that she had been neglecting as of late for some unknown (_only to him_) reason.

Out of the desire not to ruin the outing that she had planned for them both; Harry had chosen not to explore the Dream on his own. Well, that and he was not all that keen on the ever present risk of becoming lost within the Dream's labyrinthian levels and regions.

So instead; the young Kaldorei had decided to travel to the far south-east of Azeroth; to visit the an almost whispered legend of a land formation known as the 'Valley of Songs;' a canyon with natural cave and rock formations set in such a way that when the wind passed through them it produced a musical sound unlike any other.

Now this adventure that he was undertaking was not without considerable risk. Visiting the Valley of Songs put him in a near uncomfortable close proximity to Zul'Gurub; the seat of power to the Gurubashi Troll Empire. Bad enough that the valley itself was within their still tightly held territory, but to willingly travel close to that city of Elf-devouring cannibals? Harry could not think of a more idiotic thing. Unfortunately; childish impulse, curiosity and wanderlust won over simple fear and bed time stories of evil, bloodthirsty Trolls.

Naturally he had told his mother nothing. If she were to ever learn of his plans for this she would have him shackled to one of the Temple's pillars and placed under heavy guard by the Temple Sentinels while she gives him a three day long lecture and scolding on how stupid he was being.

When he had left Suramar he had to hide any sign of his intended destination from his mother, and countless others lest his mother ultimately find out. To this end he had spent several days prior to his departure sneaking supplies and equipment out of the city and hiding it in a rock formation several hours beyond the city walls heading toward Val'Sharah.

All he had to do on the day he had finally left the city to set out on his little adventure was to dress in his usual attire of plain brown pants and worn, sleeveless tunic and leave the city as leave as if it were a normal day with him heading for the Grove of Cenarius. When he was well out of the prying eyes of the Suramar Sentries and the senses of the cities Arcane defenses, he made for the rock formation where he had hidden his supplies and equip himself.

In moments he had changed from his usual light attire and into a pair of dark leather pants and boots with a matching leather jerkin and bracers covering his chest, arms and wrists. A hunting bow and quiver of arrows in addition to his hunting knife saw him somewhat comfortably armed and with a satchel filled with antidotes, healing salves, a water skin and rations he was ready to do.

Thankfully his equipment was a nonissue when Druidic shapeshifting was involved as he was able to shift into his Nightsaber form with all of his arms and supplies shifting with him.

It took almost a full day to properly leave the Suramar area; making sure to take a wide detour around the capital before finally heading off in the correct direction toward his actual destination.

The journey was long. Well over a week as he navigated across the country side and woodland of the Kaldorei Empire. He took his time, slowing down and sometimes outright stopping to take in the sights and admire the scenery. He had felt a smile cross his face when he passed by a patch of farmland belonging to a small Elven community and watched as a mother taught her daughter how to use a bow and laughed when he saw a father being tackled to the ground by his own children.

It was peaceful. Picturesque.

There were a few wandering Ancients that crossed his path as he neared the border that separated the Kaldorei and Gurubashi territories; one Ancient of Lore had taken the time to regale him with a story of the distant past when the dragon children of the terrible calamity Galakrond soared the skies, scorching the earth with their fires that had resulted in the lush forestry that had grown in the place of such devastation.

It was when he finally crossed the border that things became, much less lighthearted. The border had taken some time to cross with the frequent patrols keeping a vigilant watch; ever protecting the Elven people from the Troll menace. Harry had been forced to spend some time watching his kin to find a pattern to predict an opening for him to sneak through. It was in the waking hours of morning, when the sun had just breached the horizon that he had been able to cross; when the patrols were at their most lax and bracing themselves for the coming daylight.

After that, well, the tension never left him after he truly entered Troll territory.

It was, not quite terrifying as he sneaked through tall grass and flitted through trees, but rather nerve racking; to think that as far as he could determine any tree, any shrub or rock could conceal a lurking Troll just waiting to run him through.

Thankfully there was no such instance. However it was no comfort, in fact it made things worse.

It was the silence. The all encompassing silence that sat with him as wrong. He could hear no birds, no critters, nothing. Not even through the Emerald Dream could he feel any wildlife. It was wrong.

For several hours Harry kept low to the ground, muscles twitching under his fur as his eyes darting from one shadow to the next and the next. His senses screaming at him '_**wrongwrongWRONG!**_'. The wind no longer brushed through the trees, scattering light through gently moving leaves. The air no longer felt cool and crisp; instead taking a humid, sweltering feel.

Was this what it felt like to live within the dominion of the Trolls? Were they that evil, that fundamentally wrong to the world that life itself became unable to thrive in joy?

But that then led to another thought. The Valley of Songs. Its legend may have reached the Kaldorei but it had always existed deep within the territory of the Trolls. Even millennia ago before the rise of his people when the Trolls dominated the full length and breadth of Azeroth the Valley had sat within their dominion. Was it a trap then? A dollop of sweet, sweet honey set to lure in reckless youth such as him only to be slaughtered by Headhunters? Perhaps as a macabre rite of adulthood for the Trolls.

Harry's eyes quickly filled with several differing yet similar emotions. Panic. Fear. Paranoia. His body shook with tension as every subtle shift in light, every shadow saw him flinch as fight or flight hammered within him like a great drum.

And then he could smell it.

Blood.

Faint, almost undetectable beneath the prevailing, muted scents of the grass and trees. But still there. As he crept closer, his own will and drive preventing him from just fleeing back to safety, the smell grew stronger. More potent. It soon overpowered the natural scents of the wilds and after nearly an hour of progress it almost felt like it was caked on like dried mud.

The sunlight too had changed, shifting on a ever matching coloring as the scent of blood had grown stronger. By now the beams of sunlight filtering through the motionless tree canopy were like pillars of crimson.

A moment later and he stopped in his tracks, eyes widening as a fresh wave of fear washed over him when he felt one of his forepaws come down on and into a pool of something thick and sticky. Almost reluctantly he looked down and bit down the yowl of fright when he saw that he had just stepped in a large pool of darkened blood. The thick fluid coating fur and dripping down his claws. The pool stretched out, leading to a thick trail of blood as if the former owner of said blood had dragged itself away. Several feet ahead, slumped against a large tree with the broken shaft of a crude spear still impaled through what was left of a chest, lay a Troll.

This time Harry did make a noise. He could not stop the squeak of fright that passed through his maw at the sight of the large nearly eight foot tall blue skinned Troll with large serrated tusks laying there, eyes glassed over in death with an expression of unrestrained fear and pain etched on its face. The Troll's chest was nearly completely torn apart, as if its attacker had impaled the spear into the Troll only remove it and repeat the action several more times. That this unfortunate creature had been able to pull itself out of the massive pool of blood and drag itself several feet and to prop up against the trunk of a tree with the broken off spear still embedded in its chest spoke leagues of the willpower the Troll possessed.

It took a great deal of his own will just to tear his horrified gaze from the Troll and move on. He had long since moved beyond mere 'fight or flight'. Now well into the flight part of instincts with ever part of him telling him to run and not to stop until he was safe home in Suramar.

Run. Run away Har'rin Whisperwind.

And yet, he could not. He could not understand why, but he felt this need, this undeniable _urge_ to keep going. To not turn and run, to not flee from the blood and death in the air. Go further. Explore more. See and discover.

There were several more corpses to follow as he passed by. Each and every one torn apart with broken weapons scattered as if they had been discarded without care by whomever had brought such death. And then, the forestry cleared. And his goal; the Valley of Songs stretched out before him.

It was horrifying.

Even in his Nightsaber form, Harry felt himself pale and an overwhelming sense of sadness wash over him as his eyes met what could only now be called the Valley of Death. Bodies, beyond number, beyond sight stretched out across the slopes and floor of the valley, staining grass and rivers red. It seemed more like a mass grave than anything else. The sheer number of Troll bodies that littered the shallow canyon went far beyond that of any battleground or massacre. This defied the very limits of the idea of a 'slaughter'. Each body was just as brutalised as the last and made the ones he had passed by in the forest behind him seem almost merciful in comparison. Limbs were scattered; severed and in some cases brutally torn from bodies. Heads split in two, torso's left with gaping holes.

'_What could have done this?_'

"Dis be de work of no mortal creature little Elf."

Harry nearly collapsed as he felt his heart actually stop beating for a moment at the thick, rough voice that spoke out to his left. He turned quickly, flexing his claws out and crouching low to the ground defensively when his eyes found that of the massive nine foot tall Troll that stood there, peering down at him with glowing yellow eyes.

It was the first time he had ever seen a Zandalari Troll in person; having previously only seen carvings and crude drawings from the stories of the Unification, when Queen Azshara had united their people against the Trolls to create the great Eternal Empire that was the Kaldorei. To see this Troll before him; the drawings did no justice.

Nine feet in height with stony blue skin marked with patches of hard scales at the forehead and shoulders. This Troll had two large curved tusks jutting out from the corners of his mouth decorated with golden bands and long black hair that was tied up into a top-knot with two lengths of braided hair that were draped over his shoulders and down his chest. His powerfully muscled arms were marked with bright gold tribal tattoos that themselves seemed to pulse with power. Clothing the powerful creature was a black and grey bone and leather skirt with gold embellishments of skulls and admittedly beautiful depictions of various beasts, a pair of shin guards and wrist bracers of matching materials and coloring and a pair of spaulders covering his shoulders with large blue and yellow feathers decorating them. Held in a single powerful, three fingered hand was a large, thick gold and white bone staff with a large golden ring with feathers and stone fetishes hanging from it.

"Calm yeself little Elf. Dis one mean ya no harm." The Troll raised an open hand in the air, seeing the defensive stance Harry had taken. "Da Loa be tellin' me dat you be comin' to dis place."

Harry didn't relax. Everything was still screaming at him to run. Run away and not get eaten by the savage Trolls. He didn't want his blood to be added to this nightmare. But, he couldn't. His body wouldn't move to respond to his fear.

"Me name be Sa'Shiket and I be a Priest of de Mighty Loa; Lukou." The Troll; Sa'Shiket introduced with a bow of his head toward him. "Lukou be sendin' me a vision of dis here Valley. Da evil and death spilled here. I be called to dis place to fix dis mess. To stop da Evil One from continuing dis here atrocity. But I cannot do dis alone so Lukou be tellin' me dat she be sendin' an ally me way. A protector to fight against dis evil and help fix de land."

Harry called upon the Emerald Dream; pulling what he could through the thick, soup-like veil that was imposed between reality and the mystical realm. He was hearing what this Troll, this Sa'Shiket was saying, it was just that he was having difficulty believing him considering the racial tension and oft outright hatred that existed between their two people. It was more likely that Sa'Shiket was trying to trick him.

The Priest seemed to noticed this and his shoulders slumped as a powerful sigh passed through him, in resigned frustration. "Ya do not believe me do ya? I cannot truly blame ya for it. True dere be no love lost between me kin and de Elves. But de enemy dis day be not Troll nor Elf. It be sometin far more terrible. Sometin dat wishes to get into dis place and cover de whole world in blood."

"De Loa of Blood; Hakkar."

A flinch shuddered through Harry's body at this. The very name of this entity filling him with a profound sense of dread. He remembered in the days before he had been taken as a student under Shand'o Cenarius that his friends who had studied the arcane had told him of their lessons regarding Words and the power associated with them. He hadn't put much thought into it to be honest, especially considering that there was not much connection between words and the druidic powers of the Emerald Dream. But this, this word. This Name. It was not simply a powerful word of even a word of power. It WAS power. And a terrible, monstrous power at that.

Letting the gathered energies of the Dream lessen in his body, Harry took a chance and stood up, his form shifting as the Nightsaber receded and the Night Elf returned. His own nearly eight foot tall frame still smaller than the giant muscled Troll before him. A nervous sweat gave his purple skin a sheen as he licked his lips nervously, feeling dry mouthed as he finally gained some headway in forcing his fear to take a step back.

"The Trolls follow these Loa? I mean they are your gods?" Harry finally asked, denying to himself that his voice had squeaked a bit at first.

Sa'Shiket nodded and explained. "It be fair to say. De Loa be great spirits dat live in dis world and worlds beyond. Dey guide de Trolls and speak only to deir chosen."

Harry nodded slowly as his eyes narrowed in thought. Not much was really know about the Trolls to the every day Night Elf. Sure it was most likely that the Highborne of Zin-Azshari knew all there was to know about the old enemy, but to people like Harry, they knew only the basics of their more terrible behaviors.

"If you follow your Loa then why would you oppose this, this Loa of Blood." Harry hesitated, not wanting to repeat the terrible name from before. "I would think that you would follow it rather than oppose."

Sa'Shiket showed the first sign of overt emotion when a scowl of anger and disgust crossed his face. "De answer to dat be a dark part of Troll history little Elf. It was before even da Queen Elf of ye's broke apart the Troll Empires. A foolish Troll dat was removed from de histories of me people was de first to commune with the Loa Hakkar." Harry shuddered again. "Dis Loa was a tricky one. He wanted to be summoned into dis world and almost was. But de influence of his presence was a sickness, de same as what you see here in dis place. So de King and his mightiest warriors stopped de summoning. And in dis de Soulflayer punished us all. Wid a terrible blood plague."

Harrys' expression fell, feeling a sympathetic pain and pity for the emotion that the Troll was clearly showing. Even thousands of years of time to separate the event itself and Sa'Shiket himself and the priest still spoke of it as if the memory was fresh to his minds eye.

"Thousands perished to dis plague and from dat moment all of Zandalar swore dat we would never allow dat demon to enter dis world." Sa'Shiket paused to turn his gaze from the young elf before him to look out at the corpse filled valley, his yellow eyes glazing over with unshed tears. "And now, dat vow may be broken."

"And you need my help."

Sa'Shiket nodded resolutely. "I not be a fighter. As a priest of de Loa Lukou I be a healer."

"I'm not really a fighter either if we're being honest here." Harry confessed. "Compared to my own people I'm still just a child. I haven't even finished my training under my teacher."

Sa'Shiket gave a large grin, sharpened teeth glinting dangerously. "Even de mightiest of warriors once was a child. Untested. De Loa see da power widin' you. De Whisper of de Wind. Great Lukou guided me here to dis place, to you to stop de summoning of de Loa of Blood. Just as you were brought to dis place to see de fate dat awaits dis world if we fail."

It was, with some reluctance, something Harry could not really refute. He had always believed in a Higher power being raised in the Temple. Learning under Cenarius; hearing the stories of the other Wild Gods of Azeroth, the Dragon Aspects and even meeting more than a few of the Ancient Guardians himself. He could not simply disregard this devout Troll as a madman and claim his Loa to be false. And looking at the death that surrounded him, the blood that painted nearly every square inch of the valley floor; there was something terrible at work here and through the knowledge of the Troll Priest Sa'Shiket it had a name.

Hakkar the Soulflayer.

Harry squared his shoulders, pulling in the power of the Emerald Dream to him and letting it fill every pore of his body; sparks of emerald flickering at his fingertips as his eyes pulsed with power. "Then how can I help you?"

XxxX

Sa'Shiket had thankfully escorted Harry away from the Valley after the pair had solidified their alliance. The Troll had been quite happy to hear his agreement to the Loa given task of stopping the Blood God. In fact Harry's ears were still ringing from the powerful slap the Troll had given him on the back as he thanked him.

Proper introductions were made and Sa'Shiket had explained to him the primary concern and threat they were to face that was the source of the massacre that had transformed the former Valley of Songs into the now aptly named Valley of Silence.

A cult. Gurubashi Trolls that had left the Troll city of Zul'Gurub to worship Hakkar in all his 'glory.' with the blessings of the Soulflayer running through them these cultists were berserk, bloodthirsty savages; driven mad by a murderous rage and dark desire for blood. They were seemingly immune to physical pain as their fervour for their god pushed them to instead find a mad joy in the spilling of their own blood.

The unfortunate Trolls that had been slaughtered in the Valley had been the victims of a massive raid on a number of nearby villages that the cultists had raided; kidnapping every inhabitant and bringing them to the valley for sacrifice.

It was unlikely that even with the sizeable boost in power Hakkar would have gained from feeding on such bloodshed and worship from his thralls would be enough to stage an attack on Zul'Gurub itself, but there still was the threat that another, smaller, city could be attacked and used as the site to bring forth the wicked Loa.

Harry had since returned to his Nightsaber form; favoring the enhanced senses afforded to the form to track the trail of the Cultists with Sa'Shiket allowing him the lead in directing the hunt. Despite the savage temperament that these Cultists were now in it seemed that they were still in possession of enough sense to not leave any obvious trail in their wake. There were no footprints in the earth, no broken branches that had snapped by their passage. Not even a drop of blood left behind. The only thing to follow. Was the smell.

That putrid smell of old, clotted blood that hung in the air almost like a smoke to his nose. It took some actual effort for Harry to force himself not to gag and retch at it.

Progress was slow. The scent that was the Cultists trail was partially obscured by the dark miasma that had formed around the Valley from Hakkar's presence which forced Harry to make periodic stops to separate what was Cultist blood and the Miasma of Hakkar.

Thankfully Sa'Shiket did not pressure him for his slow pace. The Troll Priest seemed to understand the slow pacing and understand the uncertainty that Harry felt with his youth. The was no denying that the Night Elf was several centuries older than the Trolls mere forty-six years but the Troll had already taken his place in his society. He had been tested and proven himself. Harry had not. He did not have the experience or the self confidence to lead and it showed in his almost hesitant approach in tracking.

It was a vastly different experience than he expected it to be. As a child even Harry was not above fantasising life as a sorcerer or a warrior or a hunter with his childhood friends. They played their games in the streets of Suramar; the most popular of which had been 'Unity'; a form of city wide tag where they would divide into two sides or 'factions', one side representing the Army of Azshara while the other played the part of the Savage Trolls. Harry had enjoyed the game; hunting the other side and trying to catch them.

The reality; to actually be out in a hostile wilderness hunting down real Trolls with the real threat of death, it was not even close. And it surprised Harry how comfortable he was with it. Challenging? sure. Slightly terrifying? Most definitely. But ill-fitting? Not at all.

It took several hours of tracking and many more miles of distance from the Valley of Death for the blood filled miasma that the massacre had summoned to dissipate and completely fade away. With the interference gone Harry's connection to the Emerald Dream restored itself and strengthened the form he had taken. It did make the tracking slightly easier, the ever fading scent of blood easier to follow with his nose, but it didn't help him increase his pace enough to close ground.

"De scent, it is growing weaker?"

Harry looked up to the massive troll, not all that surprised that the priest had picked up on his concern. The form of a Nightsaber he may be in, it did not mean that his body language did not still carry sentient indicators. Sa'Shiket looked to have picked up on his frustration.

He nodded his head in response, maintaining his focus on the path ahead and the coppery odor in the air.

"So we be losing ground den." Sa'Shiket mused aloud, not seeming to be too disappointed with the young Night Elf with the development. The Troll understood that it was to be expected. Here the two were trying to track an invisible trail of an adversary that was most likely travelling at speed. "By me guess we be heading south, away from de Gurubashi capital. With de Pandaran's to de west and me own to de north-west dere not be many places dat would be safe for dese beasties."

Harry nodded in agreement. From his own studies in the geography of the continent Sa'Shiket was correct. Whatever the extent the Gurubashi tribes had diminished since the rise of his own people they were still an obstacle these cultists would not wish to draw the attention of, even in their bloodthirsty mindsets. The kingdom of Pandaria was according to to records known to have fought against the full might of the Troll empires before the rise of the Kaldorei and they were still as strong as ever in their isolation.

Where would these cultists go? Assuming that they intended on summoning this Dark Loa into the world they would need an isolated area to perform what would doubtlessly a powerful ritual. Isolated, not easily accessible…

Harry let out a frustrated growl, swiping a clawed paw at the ground and carving a set of deep gouges into a large stone. The scent was still fading and he couldn't even hope to predict their path. If only Hakkar's influence didn't have such an effect on the Emerald Dream, then he could-

With a jolt Harry practically exploded out of his Nightsaber form, returning to his true, elven form and slapped a hand over his forehead, swearing in realisation and annoyance that he hadn't figured it out sooner.

The Emerald Dream.

Hakkar's presence. The very act of his cultists doing the Loa's bidding and spilling blood in his name; it limited the Dream, acted as a barrier between it and Azeroth. With the Emerald Dream permeating every inch of the Azeroth itself; land, air and sea any area of Azeroth that these cultists were congregating and acting out their worship of this demon would be noticeable through the Emerald Dream not by its presence, but by its absence.

"You have an idea Whisperwind?"

Harry furrowed his brow and nodded slowly, running through the details in his head and any complications, limitations or other concerns he would need to confront and possibly deal with.

"As a Druid, I can spiritually enter the realm of the Emerald Dream; it is a primordial of natural energy and dreams of Azeroth before the birth of all races."

Sa'Shiket nodded in understanding. There were shamans within his own people that had begun exploration into the path of Druidism and had spoken of glimpses at such a place.

"This Loa that the cultists are following has a profound effect on the connection between this world and the Dream. it's almost like a thick curtain that further separates the two." Harry continued, drawing power from the Dream and casting his senses out, searching for any potential threats that would pose a danger to him when he left his body. "If I enter the Dream it should be a great deal easier to track down not only the path of these fanatics but locate their destination based on the effect this blood haze is having."

The Priests eyes widened and an expression of respect and astonishment came across him as he regarded the smaller Elf. "Den it is no wonder de Loa wanted for us to be de ones to stop dis evil. What do ya need?"

Harry paused at this. What did he need? He needed to trust the Troll. When he entered the Dream it would be only his spirit that made the journey. His physical body would remain behind and in the protection of the very being that his people were taught were savage monsters that dreamed of nothing but the destruction of Kaldorei civilisation.

"I, I need you to keep me safe." Harry swallowed his fears. This, what they were doing was something larger than petty racial tensions. Hakkar was a real and dangerous threat to Azeroth as a whole. He could not afford to hold to mere stories. Not with this.

"I will enter the Dream, search for the trail there and use it as a heading to look for the void this Loa and his followers have created. While I am there my body will be vulnerable, I will need to place my trust in you to keep my body safe."

Sa'Shiket squared his shoulders, a fierce and resolute expression taking over him as he recognised the magnitude of what was being asked of him. Understanding and feeling no small measure of honor that a Kaldorei was placing ultimate trust in him. To wilfully expose and place his life in the hands of what his own people had raised him to believe was an enemy.

"What about threats within da dream itself?" The Priest asked. "Does dat realm hold any of de dangers dat dis one has?"

Harry shrugged. "It can be a dangerous place sure, but not in the same manner as Azeroth. The main fear is losing ones way there. It is a near endless realm with countless layers of possibilities and dreams. However it is a risk that is non-applicable for this as I am entering with a clear goal in mind that does require exploration and then the risk of becoming lost."

The Troll nodded, watching as Har'rin Whisperwind eased himself to the ground, crossing his legs and settling into a comfortable position on a thick patch of grass at the roots of a sizeable tree. A faint green glow had come over the elf and Sa'Shiket's eyes widened a fraction as he saw the roots of the tree shift, growing to circle the elf almost gently and the grass grow slightly with wild flowers blooming.

Harry closed his eyes slowly, pulling more and more power from the dream as he formed within his very being the path that would take him from his mortal flesh and to the Emerald Dream.

"I cannot tell how long it will take me. But with luck, I shouldn't be long."

XxxX

Thankfully, Harry was right. Upon entrance into the Emerald Dream he almost immediately sighted the lingering emptiness left behind by the cultists as they had passed through Azeroth. In this topmost layer of the Emerald Dream the effect the Soulflayer had taken on the material plane was clear to see. From his vantage point it was clear and horrifying to see where the Valley of Songs had once resided. It was now a black chasm that the Emerald Dream was trying to fill. There were a few of Ysera's children there, aiding the Dream in removing the void and repairing the damage done but from his own sight and senses, it was very slow going.

Back to his own task, Harry could see the path that he had been trying to follow in the material plane. Not a smell here, the trail was visual, like a long, thin gouge within the dream that travelled from the Void-Valley in the distance behind him and cutting along the Dreamscape and off into the distance. Already now the void-scar was being filled back in, the Dream having no difficulty restoring such a small aberration.

The form of Sa'Shiket and his own body were like ghosts to his eyes as he passed over and moved further ahead. There was not a great deal of activity the further ahead he travelled. None of the Dreamers children could be sighted; mostly because many of them were tending to the Valley of Songs and whatever else they did in their day to day lives.

Time was unnoticed within the Dream as he flew through its ethereal landscape. Sights and wonders that would have forced him to stop in his tracks and gaze in awe went unnoticed as he looked ahead only to where his goal would reside. He passed through Stranglethorn and noted the pockets of blackness that dotted the region, Troll villages that had been raided and ransacked by the cultists. Which judging by their size and the fact that no Green Dragons had arrived to reverse the damage suggested that these raids had occurred after the Valley of Songs while these fanatics were returning to their home.

The void-scar was easier to follow after that. The thin trail having become almost like a crack within the Dream itself. It pained Harry to see the Dream like this. Is if the Emerald Dream itself was being attacked and wounded by the actions of this vile Loa.

A further unknown amount of time and he passed beyond the borders of Stranglethorn and into a large wetland that stretched along the southern most cost of eastern Azeroth. And he saw it. Well, to be more exact; he didn't see it.

And it was massive. Like a great and terrible demon had reached into the Dream and violently tron out a massive chunk of it. The void before him was horrifyingly huge. Several miles in diameter it forced Harry to take a step back when he noticed that the Dream was not forcing it to grow smaller as its energies refilled the emptiness, but the reverse happened. The void, it was growing larger. Whatever was happening there, whatever these monsters were doing in the name of their dark god; it was increasing the influence of the Loa of Blood and through that the damage his influence had upon the world.

"We're running out of time."

XxxXxxXxxX

**A/N:**

**So chapters will be a bit on the short side starting in for this story. This is due to techinically being in what we would consider the 'Prologue Arc.' we are setting up the world that Harry is finding himself in as well as who Harry himself is becoming. Chapter content will get longer as events progress so please be patient.**

**As always: read, REVIEW!, fav, follow, REVIEW AGAIN!**

**There is a schedule (I won't bother repeating its order at this time any more), which should see a chapter coming out at least once a month, maybe sooner if the mood strikes us. If you want more sooner then review more and more.**

**Please enjoy the flag ship of our writing and be gentle :D**


	5. More than the Dream

_Disclaimer: The following story is a fan-made creation. I do not own Harry Potter, Blizzard, Warcraft or any other fandom that may or may not pop up. Please support the original material._

"My destiny is of my own making." Speech.

"_I remember the time..._" _Flashback speech. Spellcraft._

"**When your people huddled in caves I was there.**" Greater being speech.

"█▄██▄▄█▄▄█▄" Inarticulate roar/scream etc.

**A?N: Timeline concerns please read!**

**This is a note concerning the warcraft timeline we are using primarily events prior to War of the Ancients. At first we had issues finding a consistent timeline that was the same across multiple sources. While we eventually did find one that we are using it was after work had already begun on planning out events. The current timeline that we are using was focused around trying to find out how old Malfurion, Illidan and Tyrande were at the time of the War of the Ancients. A few sources claimed that the twins were mid 5,000 years old by the time the Legion invaded so we built of that. The only difference this adjustment makes to the overall timeline is that the canon events that we found in 'World of Warcraft Chronicle VOL 1.' are spread out a bit more over a couple of extra millennia.**

**So for the sake of our timeline Harry is a good thousand years older than Malfurion and Illidan.**

_XxxXxxXxxX_

_Previously:_

_The void-scar was easier to follow after that. The thin trail having become almost like a crack within the Dream itself. It pained Harry to see the Dream like this. Is if the Emerald Dream itself was being attacked and wounded by the actions of this vile Loa._

_A further unknown amount of time and he passed beyond the borders of Stranglethorn and into a large wetland that stretched along the southern most cost of eastern Azeroth. And he saw it. Well, to be more exact; he didn't see it._

_And it was massive. Like a great and terrible demon had reached into the Dream and violently tron out a massive chunk of it. The void before him was horrifyingly huge. Several miles in diameter it forced Harry to take a step back when he noticed that the Dream was not forcing it to grow smaller as its energies refilled the emptiness, but the reverse happened. The void, it was growing larger. Whatever was happening there, whatever these monsters were doing in the name of their dark god; it was increasing the influence of the Loa of Blood and through that the damage his influence had upon the world._

"_We're running out of time."_

XxxXxxXxxX

No time had been wasted when Harry returned from the Emerald Dream. The moment his eyes snapped open to the star filled skies and a vigilant Sa'Shiket a few feet away watching over him from his post atop a large boulder he had taken off. Running at an incredible pace. The Zandalari Troll had easily caught up to him with his wider gait and had then enhanced the frantic Elf with the power of his Loa when Harry had explained what he had witnessed.

For the void within the Dream to be growing as it was, it could mean only one thing. Hakkar was in process of being summoned.

Still burning villages were passed by as the pair sprinted through Stranglethorn. Bodies piled up and rivers of blood running down to large pools scattered around each village. The stars had long since turned red as they passed through and entered the miasma of Hakkar's influence. Harry noted the veil coming down on his connection to the Emerald Dream and poured almost the entirety of his focus into gathering energy from it as best he could; fighting for every scrap of power he could pull through the veil and filling his body with it. He had long since passed the threshold of power that had proven too much for him centuries ago when he had first met Lunara and did not slow even a fraction in pulling more into him.

If he and Sa'Shiket arrived too late then the last thing he would need to be concerned with was the dangers of the Emerald Dream causing him to explode. In fact it might very well be preferable to the fate that would no doubt follow should he come to face a fully manifested god.

By the time the Emerald Dream truly became cut off from him, Harry no longer able to reach through the void that had overcome the region to pull further on its power, his body had already been almost completely infused with its power.

His skin tingled with the raw power barely contained within his flesh and his eyes glowed like stars. With every movement through the trees, Harry could feel the faintest shift in the wind and felt the world itself responding to him. the earth would shift to aid his every step; pushing him further.

There was a faint part at the corner of Harry's mind that sent him back to one of his previous initial meetings with Cenarius when he had first been taken under the Wild Gods tutelage. Cenarius had introduced himself as an Archdruid with the statement of '_I am the Wilds._' Never before had he quite understood the significance of the claim. Even as a student in the Druidic Arts Harry had simply assumed it to be a reference to the heritage of his Shan'do.

He assumed no longer. Now he understood the depth of that claim. Tapping into as much power as he was at this current time he could feel, so much. There was actually a noticeable effort being made on his part to ensure that 'Har'rin Whisperwind' remained as such and did not become just another part of the Emerald Dream.

Harry and his Troll companion grew more and more concerned with each passing village. They had sadly grown accustomed to the sheer scale of blood and death that permeated each of the Troll settlements that had been raided by these cultists. It was the last two that alarmed the pair. No blood. No bodies. Only signs of struggle and heavy drag marks of wooden carts weighed down heavily leading out in the direction they were headed.

Sa'Shiket had not needed to offer any explanation for the worrisome sight. Harry could already take a guess as to what had happened.

The Cultists had captured rather than slaughtered the inhabitants. Something which, given the nature of their actions prior to this, suggested their intent to properly sacrifice their captives more ritualistically.

It didn't matter that these were Trolls to Harry. So far apart from the overall threat a fully released Hakkar would pose to all life, these Cultists had not threatened or even taken any Kaldorei lives. It didn't matter. These, monsters had slaughtered countless of their own kin and were intending to add to that body count, which was something he could not, would not stand.

The great trees of Stranglethorn gave way to open plains and them swampy marshland as the duo left the Stranglethorn Forest and the official limits of Gurubashi territory. The Emerald Dream was completely absent from this area, so deep the two were within the void of Hakkar's influence and the tracks that had led out from the last two villages Harry and Sa'Shiket had found disappeared into the marshland and beyond either of their ability to track.

Harry let out a frustrated snarl, lashing out with a fist into a large boulder next to him. He could not afford to shift into an animal form to utilise the enhanced senses that came with the shift. In this place where he was unable to draw on more power he could not afford to waste even the smallest amount. The muddied ground of the marsh ahead had covered any tracks to follow and the over all odour concealed the scent of blood that had been clear to him without the use of his shifting.

"Be calm Whisper of de Wind. Now not be de time for dat." The Troll Priest soothed patiently, seeing the mounting frustration in the Night Elf. "We know de Cultists be somewhere in dese marshlands. Dat be better dan what we knew before."

Harry nodded tersely, his jaw still clenched and brightly glowing eyes narrowed in continued irritation. "We can't afford this delay. You saw those villages we passed. If those fanatics have taken captives in the state of mind you say they are in, then whatever use they have for them will not be long term. They took those prisoners because they need them _now._ Not later."

The Troll's chest heaved with a deep breath as his shoulders dropped with a reluctant nod. There was no refuting the logic behind the young Druid. Patience may be needed, but it was not a luxury that could be afforded right now.

"I am cut off from the Dream in this place. I can't pull in more power to replace what I would need to expend to pick up the trail once more." Harry explained in frustration. "I just, I don't know what to do."

Sa'Shiket could only soften his gaze as he looked down to the Elf. He could not blame the young druid for his doubt and frustration in this. While quite a lot older than himself, the Druid-in-training was still a but a child to his own people and had not experienced the trials and tribulations that came with adulthood like he had with his own people within the Zandalari. His frustration was understandable.

Harry blinked a few times as the setting sun finally dipped below the horizon, marking the beginnings of the night, his eyesight rapidly adjusting to the quickly and steadily declining light. As was with the nature of his people he could feel his strength growing as night fell. His senses, already drastically boosted by the massive store of raw power he was carrying from The Dream, further increased.

And still it wasn't enough. There were no creatures; great or small, nearby to commune with. Nor spirits of the Wilds to seek guidance from. Even the trees and plants of the wetlands themselves were silent. The presence of this Loa of Blood and all but killed the entire area.

Another snarl of anger and lashed out at the rock next to him once more, his tightly clenched fist this time breaking it in three from the sheer force of the blow.

"Aah, it seems de Loa and your moon goddess are wid us mon." Sa'Shiket spoke up with a large fanged grin as he reached out to place a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I have found de way."

Harry turned to consider the Troll before following his gaze out into the distance. To see; right out along the horizon, a distant glow, flickering and pulsing from either several or a single large source of open flame.

There was no other sign of life to be seen around. There was no doubting it. Sa'Shiket had found the Cultists.

XxxX

Despite the relatively short distance to cross to reach the light source and final location of the Cultists of Hakkar, it still took several hours to traverse the distance. The very landscape of the marsh wasn't cooperative to begin with before even considering the concern that had to be acknowledged regarding sentries and guards that the Cultists may or may not have set out around their perimeter.

Fortunately there were no such sentries to look out for when they reached a copse of trees that stood at the very edge of the well lit clearing.

What lay there was very near the stuff of nightmares. It was the first time Harry had ever seen Troll architecture with his own eyes. And seeing the massive step-pyramid that rose up from the ground nearly two hundred feet comprised of five steps to its structure. It was brightly colored in reds and blacks that had Harry feel his stomach turn when he felt a justified fear in that it was not paint that had given the pyramid its crimson coloring. Bones and skulls were piled up around large braziers that lined the sides of the large stairway that led up to an alter at the pyramids summit and scores of screaming, crazed Trolls jumped and writhed at the base of the structure as well as on its steps.

"I tink we found de villagers mon." Sa'Shiket pointed out gravely as he stretched out an arm to indicate to the base of the Temple.

Harry's eyes widened when he followed the direction to see two large iron wrought cages covering two matching pits that had been dug on either side of the Temple-pyramid's stairway. Each cage was filled to their limit with trembling, fear-ridden Trolls. Even over the screaming and roaring of the Cultists lost in the middle of their blood-haze Harry could hear the terror-laden cries and pleas of those poor, poor people. The wails of women and children and the desperate, futile moaning of the men as they tried pointlessly to pry at the bars of their prisons.

"Oh dis is not good mon." The Troll Priest spoke up again, his visage dark with righteous anger and concern. "I can see a High Priest at de Alter. Dese madtrolls be already invoking de Loa of Blood. If we be hopin' to save any of dose poor folk, we best be quick."

Harry nodded in silent agreement, already having turned his gaze to the large Alter at the top of the Temple and seeing the ornately garbed Troll there, waving hands and a wicked dagger in the air. He could see another troll up on the Alter itself as well. Prostrate on its surface as if asleep.

"There are too many in between us and the captive villagers for us to be able to sneak in and free them." Harry pointed out with an indicating wave of his arm. "Not only that but the Cultists are too tightly packed together to even attempt to pick them off one at a time if we hope to maintain any element of secrecy."

Sa'Shiket nodded in agreement. While dulled by their fervor and bloodlust toward their Loa these creatures were still Trolls. Their senses were far too highly attuned to not notice a stealth attack. Even less so considering they were all packed in against one another. "It would seem den dat de only approach would be de direct one."

Harry hated it, it was wasteful of what power he had been able to collect before being cut off from the Dream. But the Priest had a point. As outnumbered as they were a battle of attrition would only end in failure and it was beyond impossible to avoid a fight altogether.

"Fine." The Elf bit out, rolling his shoulders as he drew on the Dream within, causing a faint pale green halo to light up his skin. "If we hit hard and fast we might be able to surprise them long enough to reach the cages."

Sa'Shiket nodded in understanding, readying his staff and dropping into a ready stance, his feet digging into the soft earth as he readied himself to move. "I'm wid ya mon. de Loa guide ya."

Harry returned the nod sharply before turning his gaze back to the Temple of blood and death. The roars of the raving Cultists, the cries of their would be sacrifices. Both of them fuelled his desires and hardened his resolve.

The world was muted to his senses. The wild distant and the spirits of nature hidden from him. But he still felt a response when he sent out the power and influence he had collected. Reaching out with an open hand, fingers splayed wide. He felt the tangle of roots, rotted plants, seeds and scattered snapped off branches and twigs.

'A Destroyer is coming. Lend me your strength and power.' Harry called out, shifting and shaping the gathered Dream energy accordingly as he encouraged the dormant elements of nature to act on his will.

He grit his teeth in frustration when he was met with resistance. So close to the source of the void that was affecting the Emerald Dream, nature was reluctant to act. It forced him to draw on more of his power. The young Druid ignored the sting in his eyes as he felt blood leak out from the corners of his eyes, blood vessels burst from the combined exertion and strain his body had been under this whole time.

Far too much power than he felt he could afford with the potential dangers ahead. But it worked.

A faint rumble was heard as the earth shook ever so slightly, just enough to attract the attention of some of the Cultists who turned from the Temple to look around for the source. But for nought.

The earth split open violently as a great number of roots, as sharp as spears and as thick as trees burst forth like a wave. Quicker than the Trolls could react the wooden spikes shot up nearly twenty feet, impaling several of the cultists and gouging out chunks of those that were nimble enough to avoid impalement only to bleed out in seconds from the massive chunk that had been carved out of their bodies.

Harry felt the hot trickle of his blood trail down his cheeks and sweat bead up on his brow as he clenched his fist and twisted; redirecting the roots and manipulating their shape. Sa' Shiket had already taken off at an incredible speed, sprinting toward one of the cages as the roots all twisted; entwining together before unravelling rapidly, lashing out to force the Cultists on the Temple itself that were attempting to move out to find their attacker back further up the pyramid's steps, disembowelling several more and scoring deep wounds.

Another push from Harry, spending the last of the Emerald Dream that he was willing to sacrifice for this, and a path was cleared for Sa'Shiket and the remaining roots twisted together to form a barrier between the cages and the Temple.

Dropping his arm down to his side with a heavy gasp, Harry blinked away the blood in his eyes and forced his body to move. He could not afford even a moment of rest. Not with what was at stake. He could not, would not, allow his own weakness to see innocent people needlessly slaughtered.

He pulled his bow off his back as he ran and quickly shot an arrow at a Troll that had survived the initial assault; the arrow impacting into the cultists skull and sending him back into the mud. His ally had already made it to the cage he had targeted and with an impressive display of physical strength torn off the iron gate.

The Priest was pulling out weeping villagers and pushing them away from the Temple by the time Harry made it to the other cage. The golden eyed Elf had to swallow the bile in his mouth when he felt the sheer wrongness that was wafting down from the Temple as he came within such close proximity. The nausea left him lightheaded causing him to stumble forward a few steps as he reached out to the cage door.

He got more than a few fearful looks when the captive Trolls noticed him. He was after all Kaldorei; a long established enemy of Troll-kind, in all likelihood they feared he was going to kill them all.

Refocusing himself the Druid, quickly examined the heavy gate. Unlike Sa'Shiket he didn't have the raw physicality to tear it free. The lock holding it shut was heavy, but more within reason for him.

Harry wasn't knowledgeable in lock-picking so he couldn't simply unlock it the traditional manner which left him to grab it tightly and pull.

His arms strained as he yanked, twisted, pushed and pulled at the lock. Using every bit of his own strength to try and force the lock open or even break it. He felt the sharp edges of the lock bite into his skin, spilling blood that ran down the length of his forearms to drop to the ground at the elbow but still he continued.

He was not afraid to spill a few drops of blood when right in front of him countless lives were relying on his success.

He pulled. Twisted. Yanked. Pulled. Pushed. Twisted.

Nothing was working. The lock was too strong for him. It was of Troll make. Of course it was beyond his level of strength to break. Designed by Trolls. Made by Trolls and meant to lock away Trolls. More blood leaked from his eyes as his helpless frustration caused a tremor to run through his weakened body. He was failing.

*crack*

A series of sharp cracks and snaps sounded out from beneath his hands and Harry's eyes shot down to lock onto the lock he was still holding. A flash of pale blue light like flickering embers burst out from beneath his hands and he felt a sharp but very slight rush pass through him, leaving a tingle in its wake.

And the lock crumbled away in chunks.

Despite the situation Harry could not stop his moment of stunned silence as he starred at his hands and the shattered fragments of the lock that had broken free of the cage and was slipping through his fingers to sink into the soft mud at his feet.

It was the rusted creak of the cage door sliding open an inch that brought him back to reality and spurred him on.

Pulling the cage door open quickly, Harry reached in and pulled out the closest Troll. Setting the female onto her feet he caught her wide eyed gaze and pointed with a free hand toward the direction Sa'Shiket had sent those he himself had saved.

"Run!"

With barely a nod the female took off frantically, tripping several times over a few Cultist bodies before finding her feet and taking off. With that first Troll on her way the others lost the fear in their eyes toward him; seeing that this Kaldorei was not there to kill them or harm them but save them. With every villager Harry pulled out they gave him a quick thankful look before taking off in the wake of their brethren.

Perhaps thirty, thirty five villagers were pulled free at the hands of Har'rin Whisperwind. Thirty to thirty five lives saved. Before it all went wrong.

A sudden and massive wave of nausea swept over Harry, causing him to collapse to his hands and knees and the Trolls still within the cage all screamed in unholy agony. Harry barely managed to lift his gaze back up to see them all violently explode into a shower of gore; flesh and bone splattering everywhere and covering the heaving Night Elf. But no blood touched the ground. Instead, with each exploding Troll, the blood spewed forth shot upward in a stream of crimson toward the Temple and up its steps.

With wide eyes he watched as every last drop of blood from the meaty chunks of what used to be Trolls both villager and Cultist that had met their end from his initial attack crashed up the steps of the Temple-pyramid like a grotesque waterfall of red in reverse.

Harry felt a strong hand grab him by his arm and yank him forcibly back to his feet, faintly making out the pale blue skinned visage of Sa'Shiket looming over him. He faintly felt a measure of relief in seeing his unlikely friend and ally still alive before he felt a sharp pain as the Troll lightly slapped him across the face, returning him to his senses.

"It's not good mon." Sa'Shiket uttered with a shaky voice. "De Invocation has been completed. De Priest of de Blood Loa has opened de gateway for de Soulflayer entry into dis world."

Harry felt the blood leave his face in fear before he tore himself free of the Troll's grasp to stagger back as he found his footing, his head lifting and eyes looking up to the Temple summit.

The moon. Elune in all her glory. Was red. Bathed in blood and pain. The priest that had been enacting the invocation was gone, nothing more than scattered flesh as all the blood that had been spilled from the rituals completion continued up and into the Troll that had been prostrate atop the Alter.

It felt like an eternity, but only seconds passed before the blood was folly absorbed into the last surviving Cultist. And then. Silence

it was like the world had simply come to a total and complete stop. There was no wind. No crickets chirping, no water bubbling from the stream at the edge of the clearing. Harry couldn't even hear the frantic running and cries of those that he and Sa'Shiket had managed to save.

He could hear only the heavy and frantic beating of his own heart within his chest.

"Whisper of de Wind."

Harry jolted, his heart leaping into his throat at the sudden sound. It was but a whisper, barely audible and yet Harry heard it keenly as if Sa'Shiket had instead shouted at him.

"Hakkar comes to dis world now. Dat dere Troll has sacrificed himself to de Loa to bring de Soulflayer to de Material." The troll whispered, speaking softly and urgently as he placed a glowing hand upon the slowly panicking Night Elf. "But de connection between de Loa and his Avatar is weak. It can be severed."

Harry felt the calm wash over him as Sa'Shiket's magic filled his body, washing away the shaking fatigue and fear that had been building in him as the vile presence that was Hakkar grew stronger with each breath.

Licking his lips and coughing to clear his throat he turned his head toward the Troll. "W-we can, I mean, it's possible to destroy the Avatar?"

The Priest of the Loa Lukou frowned in thought before blowing out a tense breath. "It is still de Loa Hakkar. Powerful beyond any of us and terrible in its savagery. But it still be flesh. And dis early de connection dat hold Hakkar to dis world is not yet stable." He pounded his staff into the ground, letting loose a pulse of pale yellow light washing over the two; filling them both with strength. "De longer dis fight goes on de stronger de Loa will become and de more of Hakkar's true self will come out. If we can stop him before he takes his true form. We can win dis."

Harry nodded in understanding. It was relatively easily said. Take out what was effectively a god before he could truly manifest. It was the act of making that reality that was going to be an issue. He had used far too much of his gathered Emerald Dream energy for his liking given the undertaking before him now. Roughly sixty percent of the power he had available to him had been expended just to summon the entanglement of roots that had decimated around a third of the Cultists forces and kept the way clear to the cages to free the captive villagers. Add into the damage his body had taken from the strain of holding in as much power as he had since entering the void of Hakkar's influence and the domination he had been forced to assert over nature, it was no small miracle he was still on his feet right now.

Another pulse of light from Sa'Shiket, blue this time and the nausea that had been bearing down on Harry lifted as his mind cleared and his focus sharpened.

Another pulse and the ache in his bones faded. Another and his resolve fortified.

As Sa'Shiket continued to call upon the power of Lukou and infuse the blessings of the Loa upon both himself and the young Night Elf at his side, Harry looked down to the dagger hanging from his belt before shaking his head. Too small a weapon to face against so terrible an enemy.

Turning his attention to his surroundings and the many discarded blood caked weaponry of the Cultists, Harry moved away from Sa'Shiket and over to one in particular that caught his eye. A simple hand and a half longsword. Rusted and jagged the blade as in good enough condition as he picked it up. A quick examination of the blades edge to determine its sharpness and a few experimental twirls of the sword in his hand saw Harry comfortable with his choice.

By now, Hakkar had managed to discover control over its new body. The former Troll Cultist had been twitching and convulsing as the Loa tested the limits and reactions of the vessel it had found itself within. By the time Harry had selected his weapon and Sa'Shiket had concluded bestowing the blessings of his Loa upon the two, Hakkar had heaved itself upright.

It was a very alien manner in movement as the Troll form Soulflayer went from being completely prone on the Alter to perfectly upright, standing up like a serpent uncoiling.

Already Harry could see the possession taking effect on the Hakkar-Troll. Baleful reptilian blue eyes glowered down at him and a faint dusting of red scales had already grown across the shoulders and bicep.

"**What's this? Supplicants to kneel before my glory?**" The Loa spoke, his voice rumbling with power and resonating through both Harry and Sa'Shiket's skull like an echo. "**No. you are not my Hakkari.**"

Harry swallowed thickly, feeling a brief surge of fear through the calm that Sa'Shiket and his Loa had filled him with before clearing his mind of it and restoring his resolve. "You do not belong here Dark One. Azeroth is no place for you."

Hakkar's eyes narrowed in outrage, blood drooling from his maw as he reached up and ripped the tusks from his face violently and a pair of large serrated fangs grew in their place. "**You dare ****deny me!? I am Hakkar. The Soulflayer. The Loa of Blood. You stand upon Holy Ground. MY HOLY GROUND!**"

With a powerful movement, the Loa leapt off the Alter and down to the very base of the Temple. His feet crashing into the bottom steps and shattering the stone. The flesh beneath his skin writhed as if containing countless serpents as he straightened to snarl at the pair.

"**This World will all kneel before my glory. I will cover this entire realm in blood and you! You will be but the first!**"

Harry's eyes widened and he snapped an arm out, quickly pushing Sa'Shiket out of the way before dropping to the ground as the Loa shot forward, clawed hands outstretched and his mouth open wide. He felt the skin part on the side of his face as Hakkar managed to land a superficial strike; one of his talons grazing a light scratch along his cheek as he passed over head.

When Harry found his feet once more, sword held to guard before him, Sa'Shiket matching his movement out of the corner of his eye, the Night Elf kept his gaze fixated on the Vile Loa.

Hakkar had not followed up the lunge and instead was holding his clawed hand up before his eyes, looking intently at the small drops of blood that he had stolen from the Elf. A long, forked tongue snaked out of the Soulflayer's gaping maw to lap up the drops of crimson fluid.

"**Aahh. You are god-touched.**" Hakkar crooned, a sadistic, twisted expression of joy coming to his face as he flicked his eyes over to the guarded Kaldorei. "**There is Power within you Fleshling. I will enjoy consuming it!**"

Harry could see the Loa preparing for another charge. The twisted muscles of the Troll form Blood God shifting and tensing. Surprising even himself, Harry did not let Hakkar seize the initiative.

With a testing twirl of the sword in his hand, Harry pulled on his collected Dream energy and reached out with a hand.

The wind responded to his summons. Raging overhead in a vortex before crashing down atop the raging Loa. The force of the wind crashing down tore at the muddied earth beneath Hakkar and battered the god himself off of his feet; stumbling him.

Taking advantage of the instability of his footing, Harry charged the unsteady god, heedless to the streams of lightning passing by him to strike at the flesh of the Soulflayer, further keeping him off balance.

Harry came in low, underneath the reeling god and swept his sword up in a swift arc. The blade bit into Hakkar's flesh, carving a moderately deep gash across his chest. It was, ultimately, a superficial wound. Hakkar didn't even seem to notice it beyond that the Elf was now right in front of him and it didn't debilitate his movements when he recovered and struck back with an attack of his own. Hakkar lunged for the rapidly back tracking Druid, seeking to tear out Harry's throat.

Harry felt the razor sharp ends of Hakkar's taloned fingers brush against the skin of his throat, just barely breaking the skin but thankfully failing to reach any deeper and lashed out instinctively.

"██▄▄█▄▄██▄▄█▄▄"

Harry felt his ears bleed from the piercing shriek and grit his teeth when he saw, through narrowed eyes Hakkar's arm fly off to the side; severed at the elbow. He felt a flash of victory fill him, that brief moment of elation in the knowledge that he had actually succeeded in causing tangible, registered harm to the Loa. He had hurt a god!

"Brudda look out!"

Golden eyes widened as he felt his body being pulled back violently and he watched as a flash of black as a massive scythe shaped claw sweep through the air his body had inhabited literally moments ago.

"**YOU DARE?! KNOW MY WRATH FLESHLING!**"

Harry paled in fear when he saw the change that had come over the enraged Loa. In place of the arm he had severed a crimson red scaled forearm had grown and a four foot long black curved bladed talon sat in place of a hand. Hakkar raised his remaining Troll form right arm and flexed. The limb exploded in a shower of blood and gore as a matching red scaled arm and scythe talon grew in its place.

It was a terrifying sight to behold as Harry regained his footing and tightened his grip on his salvaged sword. Hakkar's transformation was continuing, with his eyes and now grown scythe arms, the pattern of red scales had now grown across the former Troll's broad chest and black spikes were growing out of the shoulders and biceps.

He owed Sa'Shiket his life. Had the Priest not pulled him back with his magic Hakkar would have split him clean open. He had made a mistake. He had allowed himself to revel in that brief and ultimately empty moment of victory. As if the act of taking a limb from the Soulflayer who was still in the process of shifting to his true form could equate to any kind of real success.

All he had succeeded at truly was earning Hakkar's ire. The Loa of Blood had in fact completely erased Sa'Shiket from his mind as a threat or even presence on their field of battle. To the Soulflayer; there was only himself, and the Fleshling Night Elf.

"**DIE!**"

The maddened God leapt at Harry suddenly. The earth beneath his feet cratering from the sheer force and power of the movement. Scythe's raised to cut Harry to ribbons, the young Night Elf genuinely saw his death approaching. He could hear Sa'Shiket cursing in futility and knew salvation was not coming from there.

In his desperation Harry called up the remaining power of the Emerald Dream within him.

The earth cracked beneath and around him as the power of nature erupted from beneath the ground and surged forward to meet the charging god. Large roots, razor sharp and jagged with savage thorns shot toward and into the maddened Loa. Several wooden spikes impaled through the possessed Troll; piercing through the shoulders, legs, stomach, groin and even the skull of Hakkar; lifting him several feet into the air where he hung limply.

Dead.

Harry's chest heaved, his lungs gasping for air as the last of the Emerald Dream left him. He had used up all of the power he had available to him, but he had done it. He had killed Hakkar. Well, his mortal Avatar at least. His arms and legs felt numb, his bones ached and his heart felt like it was on fire so fast was it pumping.

But he had done it. Hakkar was gone. The void would dissipate. The Emerald Dream would recover. The...the void, it would dissipate. It should be dissipating.

Harry felt a coldness wash over him as confusion and dread mounted within him. Hakkar's Avatar was dead. With the Loa gone his presence should be fading. The miasma of his presence and the void it was forming within the Dream should be fading as well. So why. Why did if feel worse?!

A horrifying, dreadful, bone chilling squelch broke the silence and drew not only Harry's terrified eyes, but that of Sa'Shiket as well.

Fifteen feet in the air. Suspended by the wooden spikes that had impaled him; Hakkar's body twitched. Another noise and a spurt of blood poured from a wound that suddenly formed in the chest. A moment later and that spurt of blood was joined by a steady stream, then a practical river of blood that fell free of the corpse as a gaping hole ripped itself open in the centre of Hakkar's chest.

"**I will not be denied Fleshling.**" Came that horrifying voice. "**This world will not deny me.**"

It was as if watching some kind of demon snake shedding its very flesh as the grotesque half troll, half serpent torso of Hakkar tore its way free of the corpse to drop down to the ground. The returned Loa was close to being fully revealed at this stage. His legs were gone, completely replaced with the long thick tail of a serpent and a pair of feather tufts were forming at the shoulder blades.

"**Soon not even the god that brought you to this wretched world will be able to stay my blades.**" Hakkar gloated. "**And your blood will be the first I take!**"

Harry couldn't stop it.

He couldn't move. He couldn't drop to the ground, raise his sword or even mount a counter attack. He just didn't have the energy, the power left to resist. The Emerald Dream was beyond his reach. He couldn't do anything. He had no power.

He could only watch with wide eyes and dread as he was bowled over by the savage being. He could only let out a pain filled scream when Hakkar brought down his Scythe arms and impale them both through his chest.

"**Your Soul will be but the first I consume Fleshling.**" Hakkar growled as he pushed the blades deeper into the screaming Night Elf's chest. "**And when I am done here, I will consume your wretched species in its entirety. And they will all know. That it was YOU who earned them that suffering.**"

"NO!"

It was like something snapped within him. He felt it. The desperation, the rage at what this monster, this demon intended for his people. His mother. He reached for the Dream. There was nothing. He reached for something, anything!

It came like a lightning strike. That shock that ran through his body from toe to ear tip. His very skin tingled with the influx of power and a blast of pale blue energy burst from him; pushing the snarling Blood God off of his body and removing the blades from his chest.

Acting on instinct alone Harry ignored the biting pain and blood-loss to heave himself to a half seated position. Supporting himself with am arm he thrust out his other arm toward Hakkar, snarling as he directed this newfound power toward the monster.

The Power responded without hesitation. Thick chains of ethereal blue light shot out from the ground and the very air itself to wrap around Hakkar; binding him to the ground and digging deep into his flesh as the Loa struggled against it.

Hakkar roared in fury, heaving and thrashing under the chains that had wrapped around him and pierced through his glorious flesh to pin him to the ground. "**You cannot hold me Fleshling! This Magic will fade as will you! You cannot kill me!**"

"Dat be true O Loa of Blood."

Harry turned his head, his vision blurry but clear enough to see a stoic and determined Sa'Shiket walk up to him. The Priest knelt down to his side and placed a hand on his chest, sending a brief but powerful pulse of energy into him, numbing the pain in his chest. The closeness allowed the wounded Elf to see the visage of his newfound friend. The Troll's eyes glowed with a power that seemed to illuminate his entire being.

"Me Brudda may not have de strength de power to kill ya." The Troll continued as he rose to his feet and turned to approach the bound god. "I may not have de power to kill ya. Ya be to mighty an enemy for us Soulslayer."

Hakkar glowered up at the Zandalari Troll as he came to stand within a foot of the half transformed serpent-troll's head. Sa'Shiket reached out and tightly clenched his hand against the Loa's forehead, yanking it up to force the Loa to meet his eyes.

"But, ya vessel's gotten weak. Me Brudda done good in fightin' ya." The servant of Lukou grinned savagely as his body brightened and the light began to surround the now snarling and thrashing Loa. "Ya right Hakkar, Soulslayer. We not be able to be killin' ya. But, we can banish ya back."

"**No! You will not! This world belongs to me! It will be mine! It is mine!**"

Sa'Shiket ignored the futile roars of defiance in favor of turning to look back at the Night Elf behind him. Favoring the youth with a more calming smile. "It be good to have known ya Whisper of de Wind, me Brudda. De Loa brought me to a mighty champion. But dis be de end for dis one. May de gods of ya people watch over ya."

Harry could say nothing. His voice failed him as he watched the light surrounding the Zandalari and Dark Loa build until he lost sight of them both. It grew too bright for him to look at in short time, forcing him to close his eyes tightly and turn his head away.

And then.

They were gone.

XxxXxxXxxX

**A/N:**

…**. HOLY SHIT!**

**So then. This marks the end of what we have dubbed to ourselves as the 'Hakkar Arc.' designed as kind of a moment of growth for Harry and for him to experience some real hardship before the shit truly hits the fan. It is also the marking point of where his life will diverge from the path he was originally on and into something where he becomes truly great.**

**As always; please read, REVIEW! fav, follow, review again. And stick around as we continue on toward the ever lurking War that waits for Azeroth.**


	6. Divergence

Disclaimer: The following story is a fan-made creation. I do not own Harry Potter, Blizzard, Warcraft or any other fandom that may or may not pop up. Please support the original material.

"My destiny is of my own making." Speech.

_"I remember the time..."_ Flashback speech. Spell-craft.

"**When your people huddled in caves I was there.**" Greater being speech.

"█▄██▄▄█▄▄█▄" Inarticulate roar/scream etc.

XxxXxxXxxX

_Previously:_

_Hakkar glowered up at the Zandalari Troll as he came to stand within a foot of the half transformed serpent-troll's head. Sa'Shiket reached out and tightly clenched his hand against the Loa's forehead, yanking it up to force the Loa to meet his eyes._

_"But, ya vessel's gotten weak. Me Brudda done good in fightin' ya." The servant of Lukou grinned savagely as his body brightened and the light began to surround the now snarling and thrashing Loa. "Ya right Hakkar, Soulslayer. We not be able to be killin' ya. But, we can banish ya back."_

_"**No! You will not! This world belongs to me! It will be mine! It is mine!**"_

_Sa'Shiket ignored the futile roars of defiance in favor of turning to look back at the Night Elf behind him. Favoring the youth with a more calming smile. "It be good to have known ya Whisper of de Wind, me Brudda. De Loa brought me to a mighty champion. But dis be de end for dis one. May de gods of ya people watch over ya."_

_Harry could say nothing. His voice failed him as he watched the light surrounding the Zandalari and Dark Loa build until he lost sight of them both. It grew too bright for him to look at in short time, forcing him to close his eyes tightly and turn his head away._

_And then._

_They were gone._

XxxXxxXxxX

The Moon was massive overhead. Blood red and painting the world crimson with its glow. Shadows seemed to writhe and boil under this moonlit horror and the screams of pain and terror ripped through the air.

Har'rin Whisperwind, son of Priestess Salaenia, dove to the side, narrowly avoiding a spear of blood that tore through the air. His body was already covered in the cuts and scrapes of other near misses. He was covered in his own blood and could feel the burn of his wounds slowing him down.

Standing across from him, was a nightmare. Fifteen feet tall a monster of rage and savagery with powerful arms ending in razor sharp scythes. Baleful blue eyes stared down at him as if he were nothing more than a pest to crawl out of the dirt only to have the audacity to not curl up and die.

Hakkar the Soulflayer.

"**Why do you continue to resist pest?**" The Loa simpered mockingly. "**You are alone. Give up now and your death will be swift. There will be no suffering.**"

Harry threw himself back when another spear of blood ripped its way free of the corpse of Sa'Shiket; the Troll having been slaughtered when he had tried and failed to banish the Loa from Azeroth. A scream tore free from his lips when the blood-spear impaled into his thigh, penetrating clean through his leg.

The blood burned his flesh and boiled his own blood as the Loa hissed in laughter. Everyone was dead. The Troll sycophants that had summoned it into the world and the Zandalari Priest that had quickly become his friend. It was only him against this demon. If he failed then all of Azeroth would fall. Suramar, his mother, Cenarius, Lunara.

The frightened, lonely Elf called upon the Emerald Dream, trying to regain some measure of strength and power to continue his fight. Only to find nothing. There was no Dream to support him, he could only feel the void that was Hakkar's overwhelming and corrupting presence. There was only Oblivion.

"**Are you afraid **?"

Harry swore through his pain and gripped the blood spear, trying to ignore the sound of his own flesh searing from contact with the vile crimson shaft in favor of pulling if free from his thigh. Hakkar's mocking was like pincers grasping at his heart, pushing and stabbing at it. Even that final word; nothing more than a half muted garbled hiss to his ears, made his blood run cold.

"**It didn't have to be like this.**" Hakkar grinned as he slithered over to where the Night Elf tried to hobble away, swiping out a Scythe tipped arm to bat him to the ground with the flat of the talon. "**Against the likes of me you can only hope to stand if you possess true power. Such power you denied in your curiosity for a fleeting Dream.**"

Harry rolled to the side, barely avoiding a Scythe blade as it thrust into the ground by his head.

"**Good.**"

Hakkar's other Scythe speared down, this time impaling into Harry's right shoulder.

"**Evil.**"

The other Scythe stabbed into his left.

"**What's the difference **? **Power is Power! And without it you can never truly stop me!**"

The Loa pulled the pained Elf off the ground, still impaled on its Scythe-talons, before throwing him off, sending Harry flying through the air to slam against the massive step pyramid from which Hakkar had originally been conjured.

With a pained groan, feeling his blood pour out from the holes in his shoulders and down his shaking arms, Harry heaved himself to a seated position. Back against the wall of the temple he could only watch in helpless terror as the massive serpentine monster that was the Soulflayer sneer at him before slowing advancing. There was nothing, nobody who could stop this creature; this darkness. Not him, not even Cenarius. The Dream could not reach here and without it even the great God of the Wilds would be helpless.

"**Do you see now **?" The monster crooned, a wide savage grin stretching across its maw. "**I am beyond even the likes of you. There is no stopping me. Not your precious Shan'do, not your pitiful Goddess, not even that old fool **."

Again, Harry heard only half heard garbled hissing and static discharge at some words from the mocking Loa. As if the monster was speaking from underwater.

Hakkar drew up to where Harry was slumped against the wall, stopping a few short feet from him. Leaning forward the massive serpent like head of the Loa came down to Harry's height, piercing blue eyes locking onto Harry's own.

There was a sudden, wet and sickening, crack. Like bone breaking and meat tearing. The Loa's jaw dropped an inch as it dislocated. The golden eyes of the terrified Kaldorei widened and he felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach when a pair of pale, almost completely white hands reach out from the moth of the Loa of Blood to pry its jaw open wider.

With a deluge of blood and bile proceeding, a figure, white as the moon with blood red eyes and two snake like nostrils in place of a nose pushed out from the throat and jaw of the demon, clawing his way free to stare at Harry with an expression of amused superiority.

"Harry ." The creature spoke, a confident smirk on his face as he pulled himself further from Hakkar's throat. "Did you truly think you were free of me?"

The creature removed a hand from Hakkar's jaw and pulled out a knotted stick from within the black robes it was garbed in, aiming it at him with an expression of rage twisting his face.

"This will be quick, it might even be painless I would not know though, I have never died."

"Avada Kedavra!"

XxxX

Harry sprinted down a corridor, panting for breath and eyes wide as he searched each and every shadow for any sign of his pursuers. The crack and pops of spell-fire erupted around the endless room, shattering objects of unknown design and intent and toppling the massive shelves that lined the aisle Harry himself was fleeing down as well as those in the distance beyond him.

Stumbling over his feet as a streak of red light tore over his shoulder, his hands almost losing their grip on his wand, Harry chanced a look back over his shoulder. He saw the furious expression of a pale skinned man with long blonde almost white hair running after him; a wand with the silver effigy of a snake head at the handle aimed his way.

There was a scream in the distance and an explosion of light. Harry felt the grip of fear clutching at his heart, causing it to ache painfully as he felt the death of someone. It was as if someone very important had just been taken away from him.

Another beam of light had Harry throw himself to the side, tumbling into a roll and back to his feet a swiftly as he could as the stone ground exploded when the light impacted into it. Reaching up he absently pushed his glasses back up his nose as he looked around quickly for some avenue of escape from his pursuers.

There! A room, door slightly ajar.

Aiming for it, Harry pushed himself faster and shoulder charged the slightly open door, crashing into the room beyond and knocking the door back to slam into the stone wall with a resounding crash.

The room he had fled into was massive. Like an auditorium with great black stone steps and pillars surrounding a large central area that was raised up like a podium with an equally large archway. Ethereal curtains fluttered from within the arch; as if disturbed by some unseen, undetected breeze. A sinister emerald green light would occasionally pulse through the fluttering fabric, each pulse stabbing at the messy haired teenager like a knife directly to the soul.

"Give up ! surrender the Prophecy and you will be spared!"

Harry spun around, wand raised and words leaving his lips without any conscious thought. "Not a chance ."

"██▄█▄█▄!" A red beam of light erupted from the blonde's wand, narrowly missing him as Harry quickly sidestepped.

He stumbled and almost fell to a knee when he finally became aware of the size and proportions of his body. He was smaller. Somewhere around five and a half feet in height and so very frail. How he had been able to escape that corridor of shelves and into this room without noticing was beyond his understanding. And how was his skin so different a color? His rich purple skin was now a pale pink.

"Pathetic attempt . Your parents made the same mistake; challenging the Dark Lord and look where that got them. Are you so determined to take the same path?" The man sneered, finally reaching the raised platform where Harry had managed to flee to, an eye shooting to the ominous Arch for a moment before returning to him.

A foreign anger filled Harry at the statement made by this man and he lashed out with his wand, sending a beam of red light at him. "!"

The Spell missed, going wide due to Harry's own anger and speed with had come at the cost of accuracy.

"How my son has so much trouble with you at that school is beyond me. But as much as you do resist, you will give me what I want. You are alone . no-one is coming to save you this time."

"Oh I Don't know about that."

A shift and pop of displaced air had Harry turn his head toward the source of the new voice only to have his eyes widen and a sense of relief fill him as he saw the man that had arrived. A name came to his lips even as his mind felt only a faint, muddled sense of recognition.

"Sirius!"

Sirius Black found Harry's eye and gave a confident wink before he snapped out a number of spells to force the blonde haired man back several steps. "Sorry we're late Harry, we rounded up your friends as best we could before coming here."

several more pops and cries of spell-casting filled the air along with the eruptions of lights of varying color as the lurking allies of the blonde man were suddenly attacked by the arrival of Sirius' allies.

"The Order is here?"

Sirius nodded. "Stand back Harry! Let me take it from here!"

Just when Harry's' relief peaked, when he felt that at last he was safe, things shifted. The blonde haired man that had chased Harry into the room and attacked him blew away in a gust of wind, seemingly falling into motes of black sand and Sirius let out a gurgled gasp as blood seeped from his mouth.

Harry turned from the unexpected sight of his attacker turning to sand and being blown away like he had never really been there in the first place to see, with terror in his eyes and crushing his heart; a massive bone Scythe shaped talon impaled clean through Sirius' chest from a gap between the ethereal drapes of the Arch.

"**This world! ALL WORLDS!**" A terrifying, hauntingly familiar voice echoed from beyond the curtains as they were forced apart. "**They all belong to me! All will bleed****in my name and all will suffer to my desire!**"

The sneering visage of Hakkar emerged from the other side of the Archways curtains, flexing its arm and cutting Sirius Black clean in two, sending blood flying across the platform and across Harry's front. The Soulflayer pulled himself further out from the Archway, reaching out with its other Scythe tipped arm to stab into the ground for further leverage to pull further out.

"**Har'rin Whisperwind! Harry ****! Child of Elune! **-██▄-█▄█▄█**!**" Hakkar roared as it pulled itself further and further out from the Veil. "**It doesn't matter what you call yourself. Who you hide as! You can never be free of me! I am blood and glory and power! Your destiny is to die pitiful and weak!**"

Harry screamed out in terror, dropping his wand and trying to call upon nature, upon the Emerald Dream to defend him as the Loa fully emerged from the Archway. When nothing happened Harry looked around, desperately trying to find somewhere, anywhere he could flee to in order to escape.

"**Don't turn your back on me, Fleshling!**" Hakkar roared. "**I want you to look me in the eyes when I kill you! We want to see the light leave your eyes!**"

Harry's eyes widened and he turned back to the furious Loa, his blood running cold and the grip of fear tightening on him. He knew those words. Somehow, in a half forgotten memory of a half forgotten dream, he knew.

When he saw the Loa of Blood, arm raised and its Scythe replaced by a large knotted wooden stick that was aimed directly at him, he felt nothing. His fear had finally passed a point where he simply felt numb.

This was it.

The end.

XxxX

**-15,500 D.P**

Salaenia was worried. Well passed if truth be told really. When her son had returned from one of his adventures beyond the walls of Suramar she had been understandably worried as only a mother could be but confident and self assured in her child's ability to look after himself. While her son had always maintained that he still had a great deal to learn from his teacher; the highly regarded and legendary Cenarius, he had displayed to her what he had been able to learn which has done a great deal to ease her fears.

But when she saw him come back that day, covered in blood and so jumpy it had very nearly had the City Guard on alert for months, the Priestess of Elune felt her heart stop.

She had been unable to learn much from what had happened to Har'rin. The most she had been able to get out of him was an encounter with a Zandalari and one of the Troll's darker, more evil gods before he shut down and started shaking in fear with his eyes glazing over as he relived the experience.

It had gotten to the point where she had been forced to escort her near catatonic son to the Temple and sequester him a room there in the hopes that Elune's presence would calm him. It worked, but had the side effect in that he rarely left the room and even the temple for more than an hour at a time before he fled back in as if he was being chased.

It broke her heart. He had not left Suramar since that day. Fifty years he had spent hiding away from the world. Whenever she brought up visiting Cenarius and that lovely Dryad she remembered her son talking about so fondly; Lunara, he refused and said that he couldn't.

When she asked why all he would say would be; 'it's not enough.'

so Salaenia was very worried.

So worried in fact that for the first time in centuries, the woman had left the temple, left Suramar itself in fact to travel to Val'Sharah and the Grove of Cenarius. She had found no difficulty in finding the elusive grove of the Keeper of the Forests; Elune's light guiding her to the perimeter of the grove and the Moon Goddesses very moonlight forcing the twisting thorned vines and gnarled roots to recede and allow her entry.

When she saw the wild god with her own eyes, she understood the reverence the Kaldoreiwho lived in Val'Sharah had for him. Powerfully build and majestic in both size and presence, there was a warmth and comfort about the deity that reminded Salaenia of the waters of the Moon Well within the Temples of Elune.

"Lady Whisperwind?" The venerable being noticed her quickly, his face adopting a concerned expression. "What brings you here to my home?"

"I-It's my son; Har'rin." Salaenia found her mouth dry.

The mention of Harry's name had a nearby gathering of bushes shake and a beautiful young Dryad leap into sight, golden eyes wide and worried. "Harry? Is he okay? What happened? Why hasn't he visited for so long?"

"Calm yourself Lunara, let Lady Whisperwind speak." Cenarius ushered silence from his equally worried daughter with a wooden hand.

Turning back to the tense looking Kaldorei female, the Lord of the Wilds let out a calming breath, pushing back his own anxiety regarding his student.

"He's alright. Physically speaking I suppose." Salaenia started, uncertain how to properly get across her fears regarding her son to the god before her. "Something has happened. Not too long ago he went on one of his adventures. He likes to explore in his free time."

Cenarius nodded in understanding. He had long since come to understand the scope of his Thero'shan's curious nature. It was something that had brought him and his daughter Lunara close since their first meeting.

"I don't know where he went or what happened. H-he won't talk about it." The Priestess continued, tears forming in her eyes and her shoulders shaking as silent sobs broke free. "But when he came back he, he was so scared. Covered in blood and, and, I've never seen him so frightened before."

Both Cenarius and Lunara felt a wash of fear pass over them. What had happened? "Did he say anything? Anything to hint at what could have happened to him?"

Salaenia shuddered violently. Looking for a moment as if she would collapse and pass out from the memory of what her baby boy had been able to say, or rather scream out in fear to her.

"Hakkar."

The world itself seemed to become silent at this. The wind stopped and trees froze. As if the Grove had come to a complete standstill within time itself at the mere utterance of the word.

"Spirits." Cenarius swore, a cold sweat forming and a very real sense of trepidation forming in the pit of his stomach. "The self proclaimed Loa of Blood."

"You know what it is?" Lunara asked, confused and extremely terrified by the primal fear just the name had invoked in her.

Cenarius nodded gravely. "Unfortunately. It is the name of an entity not native to Azeroth. A creature so vile and wicked that even the darkest horrors of this world keep their distance."

"T-then how could my son know of it?" Salaenia asked, both confused and now horrified at the very thought of the possible answer.

"I fear the worst in this case."

The Wild god frowned in thought, casting his mind back fifty years to the day when the Emerald Dream had screamed out, pain and suffering beyond anything he had ever experienced before. The entire Green Flight under the command of the Dreamer Ysera mobilising to fight against a corruption that had sprouted suddenly.

"I had not thought there to be any connection between the current absence of Har'rin and the events of fifty years ago. The protectors of the Dream spoke of a great upheaval to the south of Azeroth." He explained. "A dark, terrible force had been seeded in this world and its very existence burned away at the Emerald Dream itself. For my Thero'shan to speak that name, I can reach only a single conclusion; it was Hakkar the Soulflayer that had been brought into this world."

"What?!" Lunara gasped in terror. If this monster was as bad as her father claimed then something had to be done. "Are the Flights gathering? What about the other Wild gods? We cannot let it remain unleashed."

"Peace daughter, peace." The elder god urged, reaching out with an arm to grasp her shoulder and offer a measure of calm. "There is no ongoing crisis. She-Of-The-Dreaming has since informed me that the Soulflayer was defeated. I was unsure of the parties involved, but with Lady Whisperwind's concerns, I believe I now know who it was that routed this evil."

"Har'rin? My boy stopped him?"

Cenarius nodded. "For him to have returned home as you recall, then I fear there can be no other explanation. He faced the Loa of Blood."

Salaenia lost her battled with her sadness as tears cascaded down her cheeks, profound sadness for her child overcoming her at the very thought that he had been forced to face such a monstrous evil. "H-he's so afraid now. He won't leave the Temple for more than an hour at a time and when I do see him, he has his nose in a book. He seems almost frantic."

Cenarius frowned in thought. He had not felt the presence of his student within the Emerald Dream for quite some time now. He had not been all that worried for Harry given that even without touching the Dream it was a simple matter for him to locate and determine that the young Elf still lived. But with hindsight and the revelation of Salaenia Whisperwind's concerns; it painted a new picture as to why he had not felt Har'rin enter the Dream since.

"I believe it may be prudent for a journey to Suramar at this time." The god mused aloud. "With your permission Lady Whisperwind, may I accompany you back to your home?"

"Wait what? I want to come to!" Lunara spoke up, eyes wide and filled with anxiety for her dear friend. "I've missed Harry and if he's not well then I want to see him and make sure he's going to be okay."

"Not this time daughter." Her father refused with a shake of his head. "I will see to my student and speak with him. Perhaps afterwards."

Turning from his pouting daughter, the young Dryad still incredibly worried and frightened for her friend yet understanding of her father's wishes, Cenarius returned his attention back to the Priestess of Elune.

"Will you consent to my visiting young Har'rin?"

Salaenia looked up to the massive god. So large, so powerful and yet. So gentle and kind. She could only nod in reply.

XxxX

He hadn't slept. He couldn't sleep. Not with the horrors that waited for him in the unconscious. A week after Sa'Shiket had given his life to save him and banish the demonic Loa from Azeroth and Harry had returned to Suramar his nightmares had started.

At first they had been somewhat simple. Visions of the Zandalari in his dreams; blaming him for his death, raging at his weakness that had forced the Priest to sacrifice his life to save such a pathetic Elf. While moderately effective in enforcing a level of guilt upon him, Harry had been able to, with some success, work passed those nightmares.

It was after a year that the aftermath of his little adventure had truly begun to haunt him.

Terrifying, haunting visions of a returned Hakkar tormenting him and destroying all that he loved. A return to the Temple of Hakkar where Sa'Shiket had failed to banish the Loa and the Soulflayer had taken its time in torturing a defenceless Night Elf.

It had gotten to a point where his mother had brought him into the Temple of Elune, hoping that the priestesses and the Light of Elune would be able to relieve him of whatever weighed on his mind and soul.

It had been, somewhat, effective. The shelter of the Temple of Elune had been able to aid in Harry separating illusion from reality and he was able to more keenly tell the difference between when he was awake as opposed to asleep. But it didn't stop the terror of what would happen when he did sleep.

So terrible had his dreams become that fragments of a life long since forgotten had started to leak through. A life as a different man, a life willingly forgotten and abandoned. A monster from that life had returned in his dreams to terrorise him alongside Hakkar the Soulflayer. He could not recall the name. There were very little names and places he could recall from these fevered dreams of a life long since departed. But he remembered the fear, the sheer hopelessness that pale man had once inspired in his previous self.

That had become a powerful aspect of his resolve to avoid sleep as much as possible. The return of half forgotten memories passing through his dreams brought with them a terrible fear.

Was any of this real?

Was he truly Har'rin Whisperwind or simply that pitiful pink skinned child who had dreamed up a life free of the red eyed monster?

It was a foolish fear, one that was always resolved and discarded after a few hours upon waking. But each and every time he awoke from a nightmare that involved some version of that muddled existence, there was that very brief moment that he wondered if he was still that boy with the lightning shaped scar.

Another truly horrifying part feature and theme of his nightmares was the reminder of his powerlessness against the real Hakkar. How just by being close to the Loa his access to the Emerald Dream and the power he had thought he possessed as a Druid-in-training had been stripped away from him.

In each and every dream where he was forced against either Hakkar or this creature who titled himself Voldemort he would attempt to fight back; to call upon the Dream for the power he needed to affect his Druidic magic. Only to fail. To find no response as he called for strength. Even when the corrupting influence of Hakkar, a recognised contradiction to the Dream, was absent he still would find himself unable to connect to it and draw upon its power.

The only times he had been able to fight back by even the smallest degree, was when he was in his past incarnation and made use of one of the only spells he could remember from that time; the Patronus. That glowing white light; taking a form he could not see or recall, pushed back the monster of his past and would even force Hakkar to flinch back long enough for his dream form to flee just a moment longer.

He had done his best to avoid sleep altogether, staying awake for weeks sometime months at a time and when sleep overcame him it was only for a few short hours before the force of his dreams shocked him back into waking. And it showed.

His skin had lightened a few shades, turning a lighter off shade of purple, his eyes had large bags under them and his face had become gaunt and he had lost quite a bit of weight over the course of fifty years due to his sleep deprivation and the hit his appetite had taken as a result.

It had worried his mother incredibly which had in turn resulted in Harry feeling no small amount of shame in being the cause. She worried so much about him even before this and all he had done to repay that care and love was to force upon her even more worry and stress.

He couldn't bear that. And so that, combined with the doubt and helplessness he had felt both in his dreams and against Hakkar back in that swamp, Harry delved into discovering what it was that he had found within him that had pushed the Loa back so effectively.

It took no time at all given the truth of the source.

The Arcane.

So simple a thing that Harry had actually felt a bit of embarrassment at not having considered the possibility on his own instead of requiring an instructional text to identify it for him.

And so that was where his motivation took him during his time within the Temple. Every so often he would make quick, frantic trips out into Suramar to hunt down and collect tomes on the Arcane, return to the safety of the Temple and study them intensely.

The shame and sense of betrayal he felt in studying Arcane magic as opposed to the Druidic magics he had been shown by his Shan'do Cenarius resulted in the Night Elf studying in the secrecy and safety of the room that had been provided for him. As if he were delving into something dark and illegal he hid his growing interest in a magic he had once rejected in favor of the more obscure and unknown mysteries of the Emerald Dream.

Harry had felt terrible the first time he attempted an Arcane spell; a simple illumination incantation. The sensation that had come with the success, the strength he had felt and the rush that sent pleasant tingles across his arms had been unlike anything he had ever felt before. He could still remember the first time he had used the Emerald Dream to create a powerful gust of wind that had carried him high into the air, and between the two there was no comparison to what he had felt when creating that arcane light. It had been wonderful. And he felt terrible because of it.

What would Cenarius say? Would he scorn him? Scold him for using turning away from Druidism and to the Arcane?

What about Lunara? Would she come to hate him for the same?

He hated it. Hated that he could not escape the belief that in order to be ready for the next time he found himself out in the world he could not rely on the magic of nature to see him through. That he considered the power of the Emerald Dream something that he could not call his own and therefore no longer rely upon to make him strong.

If he was to grow stronger then he would need to possess a power that was his own and not a borrowed power like the Emerald Dream, then he neededthe Arcane.

And so, for the better part of fifty years, he studied. Like a dying man in a desert he drank in Arcane knowledge like it was blessed water. Taking in everything, theory, supposition and even outdated, redundant research that had been replaced in favor of more modern, efficient work.

Currently Harry was pouring through the contents of a study into the arcane flow of Azeroth's Ley Lines when the door to his room opened, bringing in the soft silver glow of Elune's Light from the Moon Well in the central chamber.

"Har'rin, are you awake?" Salaenia called out gently as she peered into the room.

Harry quickly closed the book he had been reading and stuffed it under the sheets of his bedding before turning toward his mother, trying to not notice the almost invisible flinch and expression of sadness that crossed over her face at the sight of his gaunt, shadowed face. "I am mother. Is something wrong?"

Salaenia shook her head. "No nothing is wrong dear. You have a guest."

Harry blinked in confusion. His golden eyes, dull and muddied from insomnia blinking slowly as he tried to determine who could be seeking him. Any of his Kaldorei friends had long since become acquaintances at best due to the separation and distance of both vocation and time apart. In truth the only people within Suramar that he held any form of prolonged contact with were the Priestesses of Elune that he would interact with whenever visiting his mother here at the Temple or the occasional 'encounter' with a female that he picked up at a Wine Bar. But the latter had not happened in nearly a hundred years now. He had found a steady decrease of interest in the women of his species since he found himself spending more and more time with the free spirited daughter of Cenarius.

"Who is it mother?" he asked as he stood up, picking up a discarded tunic and slipping it on as he approached the door.

Salaenia stepped back and allowed her son the space to exit his room and held out a hand to indicate to the central chamber of the Temple. When Harry saw the massive form of his teacher Cenarius Standing before the Moon Well, bathed in the ever present Light of Elune and drawing several wide eyed and slack jawed stares from the passing parishioners and priestesses, he paled even further than his current complexion.

"What is Shan'do Cenarius doing here?" he asked shakily, the fear of his secret and shameful study of the Arcane coming to the forefront in what he was dreading to be a dressing down from a very disappointed teacher.

"He asked to come here. To see you." Salaenia replied, unaware of the growing apprehension of her son. "I went to him for help. I was worried about you with what has been happening. When I told him he said he wanted to come here, to check in on you."

Harry gulped nervously but nodded nonetheless. Approaching the Keeper of the Wilds, Harry tentatively reached out to the Emerald Dream for the first time since the Hakkar incident, trying to mask the Arcane power flowing through him with its own.

Doing so drew the attention of the god himself who's head immediately turned in the direction of the Druidic activity.

When he saw his student approaching, despite the worn and tired appearance of the young Elf that caused some further concern, Cenarius smiled widely.

"I'm so very glad to see you safe and whole Thero'shan." The being spoke warmly. "When I was informed of the events that occurred fifty years ago and your part in them, I could not bear to remain in my home without seeing with my own eyes proof of your well-being."

That feeling of shame returned. That he had not left Suramar since his ordeal, not even to seek out Cenarius or even Lunara, had him feel no small measure of regret. "I-I'm sorry Shan'do. I-I could no-"

Cenarius raised a hand, stopping the Elf in his tracks. "There is no need to explain. I understand. You have experienced something that even I would be effected by."

Harry nodded meekly, still hoping at the back of his mind that Cenarius did not notice his discomfort.

The Being looked around the Temple, taking in the grand marble carvings and statues of the Moon Goddess. "Never before have I entered the hallowed halls of one of Mother Elune's great Temples. It is as magnificent as I envisioned. However, I believe it would be best suited if I were able to speak with you in private."

Harry nodded in understanding. His people where not exactly the most subtle of folk as already he could see a number of people gathering with obvious intent on listening in and were making little to no effort in concealing it. "There is a garden nearby."

Cenarius nodded with a pleased smile and directed Harry to lead the way.

XxxX

It was not even a few minutes before Harry had lead the God of the Wilds to the garden he had mentioned. A well maintained and carefully structured mix of natural forestry and Kaldorei landscaping at the back of the Temple of Elune.

Despite the clear intent of speaking without prying ears, a few locals had followed after the pair, still intent on eavesdropping on their conversations. Cenarius had never before visited Suramar and so seeing one of the wild gods was quite the spectacle.

Harry made to call upon the Emerald Dream in order to encourage the garden to grow in a manner that would erect a natural barrier to separate them from the would be voyeurs when he hesitated. A sudden vision of a sneering Hakkar looming over him, mocking his weakness, appeared before him. His eyes pulsed unconsciously and a faint blue halo lit up his arms as the Arcane responded to the episode.

Seeing the hesitation and taking note of the flare up of magic, Cenarius waved a bark encrusted hand and erected a barrier of his own.

Grass and roots shot up, growing to a looming thirty feet and twisting together to form a thick physical barrier to separate them from the outside world.

When the barrier was in place and there was no need for concern of prying ears, Cenarius turned to his student and looked at him. The gods expression was unreadable for a moment leaving Harry fearing and waiting for the eruption of anger from his Shan'do at his experimentation into the Arcane.

"You still see it don't you?"

Harry blinked. Confused at the opening question.

"The Soulflayer." Cenarius said further, his expression softening into one of sadness and understanding. "You still see it, in your dreams and even now in the waking world."

Harry flinched before nodding quietly, looking away from his mentor in embarrassment.

"There is no shame in fear Har'rin." Cenarius said, seeing the self-perceived shame in his student. "You stood against a great evil and emerged not only victorious but alive. Far more than many others could hope to claim had they been in your place. There is no dishonor in that. Nor is there any in where your studies have taken you."

Harry's eyes shot open wide and his gaze tore back to the Keeper in a mix of shock and apprehension.

Cenarius smiled softly, trying to ease his students discomfort. "You tried to mask it underneath the Emerald Dream, but you cannot hide it from me. I can see the power of Arcane magic in you."

"Forgive me." Came the whisper of the downcast Kaldorei.

"Forgive you? Why? What have you done that would require my forgiveness?"

Harry swallowed, trying to find the words that could properly defend his reasoning for turning to the Arcane. That could explain his betrayal of the dedication his mentor had shown him in passing his knowledge down to him only for the student to look to another art; thereby spitting on his generosity.

"I turned against everything you taught me. You showed me the wonders of the Emerald Dream and what it could do and I abandoned it in favor for the Arcane." Harry confessed, looking down to the floor as if he were nothing more than a child caught in a wrong by a parent.

A long, drawn out breath left the Lord of the Forest and his eyes softened as he looked down to the repentant Whisperwind. A great sadness filled him as he considered not only the words spoken but the feeling behind them. That Har'rin would feel as if looking to the Arcane in the wake of such a traumatic event was a betrayal to him was both in a sense humbling as it spoke highly of how much the Night Elf regarded him, but also of his lingering innocence.

"It is I who must ask for your forgiveness in this Thero'shan." Cenarius finally spoke, drawing an expression of disbelief from his beloved student. "That you would feel as if you have betrayed me by turning to another path means I have failed as your teacher to show you the truth."

"The truth? I don't understand."

"I showed you but a single path. The path of the Emerald Dream and that of a life as a Druid." Cenarius began, waving a hand and causing a gust of wind to blow out from his palm and countless flowers to bloom underneath him. "But I failed to show you that there are countless of other paths that still surround you. Any may be taken at any time and they are all yours to freely take without shame or regret. And the truest failure on my part, is that I did not show you that even when you take one such path, it does not close off behind you; preventing you from returning to that which you chose to leave."

"If by your choice you take the path of the Arcane then do not feel regret. It is your path to take as you wish. Just as it is if you wish to one day return to the path of the Druid." Cenarius continued as he approached the attentive Elf and placed his hands upon his shoulders. "I can feel only pride and gratitude in the knowledge that I was honored enough to teach you what I know even if only for a time."

"You say this as if I'm already on a different path now." Harry pointed out, a small twitch of the lips that was reminiscent of his old self.

Cenarius replied with a smile of his own. "Even if you do not see it yet, I believe you are. I can feel the power of the Arcane already brimming within you and while the horrors of your ordeal still cling to you. I see a spark of interest and joy that I have not seen in a long time. Not since your first lessons under my tutelage."

The reminder of his ordeal had Harry's shoulder slump under the weight of his mentor's hands. Unable to carry their weight.

"I don't know what to do though. How can I continue, even if I go on to study Arcane Magic, with these nightmares, these memories of what I saw?"

"What was one of the first things I taught you about life and the natural world when I took you under my guidance Har'rin?" Cenarius asked.

"All life is fleeting. It births, it lives and then it ends to make way for the next." Harry recited, that first lesson forever etched in his mind. "Nothing is truly forever."

Cenarius nodded in approval. "That is true, but allow me to add to that with my last lesson to you."

"While nothing truly lasts forever, neither is anything truly gone. Your nightmares, your experiences against the Soulflayer. They will never truly fade from your memory. Something that has had such a profound effect on you as this can never truly vanish. But just as the forest will carry signs of a fire, so to will it heal, stronger and more vibrant than before."

"Be patient. Do not fear your past but grow stronger because of it." He continued, pushing gently but firmly back on Harry's shoulders, forcing the Elf to stand on his own without his grip supporting him. "Grow strong Har'rin Whisperwind. Grow strong according to your own Will and desires. Stand taller and greater than you were before with the knowledge of where you came from."

Harry's eyes brightened as the confidence of his Shan'do filled him. The faint spectre of Hakkar that had been sneering at him from the corner of his eyes fading as the words of Cenarius reached deep into him.

"I am now and forever more proud to have taught you as long as I have Har'rin. What path you take know and remember this forever more. And do not forget-"

Cenarius smiled widely, seeing the spark of returned confidence and vibrancy return to his dear student.

"-whatever path you take. It is never alone."

XxxXxxXxxX

**A/N**

**Tada!**

**so then with this chapter the Hakkar Arc is _officially_ officially behind us.**

**This chapter was always intended to be more an aftermath chapter than anything else really. Harry went through something very impacting to his life so it was important to show that was an impact on him because of it. He fought the Elune-damned Devil of all Loa so it has****to have an effect on him after all is said and done.**

**We also took the time to add in some Harry Potter remnants to his nightmares mainly because it shows that there is still some aspect of his previous life in the deepest parts of his subconscious. The █▄▄█ bullshit were signs of how he had even in his unconscious mind forgotten and continuing to completely forget his previous life. Only a few key aspects remain and even then he cannot really call them up to the forefront of his mind.**

**People need to consider that he was only Harry Potter for 17 years. Of that he could only be expected to remember 14 of them even while still 'Harry Potter'. For Har'rin Whisperwind, who is by this point 500 years old you cannot expect him to have fresh and present memories of 14 years of memories that is practically all bad with a few select positive memories when he literally has a whole new life of several centuries built over it.**

**That is the take we have taken on this Harry reincarnation. How can he remember being Harry Potter when his new life is so much better in comparison and longer as well?**

**For those who have been whining about this just being an OC called Harry, I would like to direct your attention to 'Hadrian Lannister Lion of the Rock****' ****written by Sage1988 (id:11959184 ).**

**Brilliant story but essentially the same opening premise as what we have here. Harry Potter, reborn in another world as another person with the only linking factor between his two lives being THE SAME FIRST NAME!**

…**..We've ranted long enough. XD**

**On a pleasant note. An internet cookie as well as an offer to name a Night Elf character for use in a future chapter if you can correctly guess the redacted names and things Harry could not hear in his nightmares. (winner has to make a genuinely suitable and fitting Night Elf name and not some crap that no elf would be legitimately be called.)**

**Submit by review in addition to regular review content :D**

**Winner will be notified in upcoming chapter (if there is one by then).**


	7. Magical Lines, Connecting Dreams

_Disclaimer: The following story is a fan-made creation. I do not own Harry Potter, Blizzard, Warcraft or any other fandom that may or may not pop up. Please support the original material._

"My destiny is of my own making." Speech.

"_I remember the time..._" _Flashback speech. Spell-craft._

"**When your people huddled in caves I was there.**" Greater being speech.

"█▄██▄▄█▄▄█▄" Inarticulate roar/scream etc.

**A/N: Further Author Note is at the end of this Chapter; please read as it concerns what happens.**

**TheBlackCatSwordsman: It's been a while since our last update but we remember that we said if someone could accurately guess the redacted words from the last Chapter that we would give a character a name of your choosing. Well you got it right; so we did. Your character name that you provided has been introduced this chapter and will be seen in the coming events.**

XxxXxxXxxX

_Previously:_

"_Be patient. Do not fear your past but grow stronger because of it." He continued, pushing gently but firmly back on Harry's shoulders, forcing the Elf to stand on his own without his grip supporting him. "Grow strong Har'rin Whisperwind. Grow strong according to your own Will and desires. Stand taller and greater than you were before with the knowledge of where you came from."_

_Harry's eyes brightened as the confidence of his Shan'do filled him. The faint spectre of Hakkar that had been sneering at him from the corner of his eyes fading as the words of Cenarius reached deep into him._

"_I am now and forever more proud to have taught you as long as I have Har'rin. What path you take know and remember this forever more. And do not forget-"_

_Cenarius smiled widely, seeing the spark of returned confidence and vibrancy return to his dear student._

"_-whatever path you take. It is never alone."_

XxxXxxXxxX

**-15,200 D.P**

The Great Arcane Academy of Suramar. The most prestigious institute of the entire region; boasting a library that dwarfed any other outside of the universities of Zin-Azshari itself. This place of learning accepted only the high tier nobility of Suramar, those endorsed by nobility or the children of the revered and beloved Priestesses of Elune.

As the son of one of the Temple's higher placed Priestesses; it was a simple matter to have Harry enlisted there, regardless of the lateness of his enrolment.

With the guilt of not following the path of his mentor, his Shan'do Cenarius lessening over time, Harry had delved fully and deeply into the study of the magical art.

It had been an astonishing change to consider. That compared to before when he had felt shame at abandoning the path and calling of the being he looked up to so much, and now that he had the support to go forward; his progress in study and learning was phenomenal.

But even then it took him a great deal of time to advance within the Academy. Not because of any difficulty. No, regardless of how long he spent in the academy he was leagues above his younger classmates. After a century of study; when his fellows all graduated it was still widely considered amongst them that the reclusive and studious Har'rin Whisperwind was by far their superior in both power and skill.

It was his method of study and the rate in which he progressed through the levels of the Academy's curriculum that saw him remain as a student two hand a half times longer than any other. The learning course within Suramar's Arcane Academy was set to be completed over the course of one hundred years. In that time a prospective Mage would learn everything they needed to know to understand and be able to tap into the Ley Lines of Azeroth, learn of the various schools and arts of Arcane Magic; choose one and study it very near to the point of mastery where a Kaldorei Mage did not need to consult spell books and scrolls prior to active spell casting.

Harry defied expectations and tested the patience of more than one Master within the Academy. He took his time. Spent longer hours learning what other students did; not simply satisfied with reading and memorising the subject; but preferring to assimilate and understand it completely instead. It was for this reason why his power was far beyond any of the other students of his class; his grasp of the existence of Ley Lines was greater as was his ability to pull from its flow.

He did not choose to learn from a single school of arcane magic. Not limiting himself to learning only a single element such as Frost, Fire, Earth, Water or Ether or focusing on the more abstract arts like warding or enchanting. He learned them all.

As far as Harry considered it; he entered this Academy for the purpose of learning Arcane Magic in its entirety, not simply one small fragment of it.

Two hundred and fifty years.

That was how long it took Harry to complete his education to his standards.

And it was still not enough.

Harry was dissatisfied upon his graduation. He had learned everything that the Academy had to offer; read every book, attended every lecture and conference that had been hosted there; even been fortunate enough to sit in attendance to a lecture on the Well of Eternity itself by none other than the Lord Xavius; the High Councillor that served under the Holiest Light of Lights; Queen Azshara. It had been a humbling experience for the young Whisperwind. He had been astonished to feel the sheer magical power that wafted off of the powerful Elf in waves.

The source of Harry's dissatisfaction, despite all that he had learned; all the spellcraft he had studied and brought into his possession; was connected to the true source of a Mage's Arcane power.

The Ley Lines.

Harry found it to be very reminiscent of a Druid's connection to The Emerald Dream. In that just as a Druid called upon power from the endless realm that was the Dream to fuel their strength and Druidic arts; a Mage called primarily upon Azeroth's Ley Lines to fuel the spells that were cast.

Harry had turned from the calling of Druid life because he had been unwilling to depend on a third party to provide the power he desired. And now he had learned that in order for any mage to truly grow and become powerful; one had to develop and further their ability to draw upon larger and larger quantities of Ley Line magic.

It was because of this that Harry did not stop or even slow down in his studies and fervent passion of gathering knowledge. He wanted _more. _Magic had grown to be a fond love within his life soon after focusing his passion and mind to its learning. Where delving into and learning the natural power and mysteries of Druidism had been a peaceful joy, the Arcane was a burning fire deep in his belly that filled his veins with warmth.

He had never been bored learning under Cenarius, but learning Arcane; even from books, had him eager to learn more and more with every word.

The Mages that graduated Suramar's premier Academy, that graduated from Nar'thalas, from Mennar in Western Kalimdor, even those of the Highborne that attended the Universities of Zin-Azshari; they all focused on a single field of magic and in that field made their mark. Harry would not. This was not something he was interested in only for the career; the gold and glory he could attain as a result of it. He wanted to satisfy his thirst for knowledge and understanding for his own, personal sake.

Tomes and scrolls on elemental magic, on wards and enchantment. Runes and glyphs, Celestial theory and even some reading into Kaldorei speculation regarding the Zandalari's savage practice of Voodoo. The journey of knowledge that Harry had undertaken to not only discover the means to become truly independent of Azeroth's Ley Lines; but to also learn Arcane Magic in its entirety filled his personal quarters to such an extent that he had been forced to be rid of his bed and simply make do with a bed roll.

The direction of Harry's studies had led him into spell creation in time. Not truly for the sake of creating genuinely unique and never-before-seen spellcraft. But more for the idea of creating every spell that already existed specific for the situation that he required it. The inspiration for this had come from interesting enough the understanding and learning of a simple lighting spell from his time at the Academy. A small orb of glowing light that was used to provide nothing more than illumination. It could be brightened or dimmed accordingly and float overhead independent of the caster's body.

But Harry found that it did not provide uniform illumination to a satisfying level. That casting such a spell in a room would still leave pockets of shadow and darkness depending on the shape and layout of the room.

But what if this small, insignificant spell was uniquely crafted and cast with a specific room layout and design in mind?

However coming to the decision to develop a field of study that involved the, technical, creation of each and every spell for the on-the-spot situation was one thing. Putting it into practice was another entirely.

Harry was coming across a number of blockages and problems. When a mage casts a spell he first uses the mana within his own body to create the 'husk' of the spell. The arcane circle that would hold all the aspects of the spells function; its form, effect, duration and aftereffect. Everything was contained within that single array that manifested according to the will of its caster. Once the husk was formed the Mage would then tap into the Ley Lines to fill it and complete the spell. With the Ley Lines providing the power to fuel the spell the circle would activate and the spell would be cast.

Regardless of his ultimate goal to not be dependent on Ley Lines for arcane power, Harry still tested his initial progress with the inclusion of Ley Line sourced power. For no other reason than to be able to determine whether or not he was on the right track.

Given that the methodology he was working on had extreme difficulty allowing Arcane power from Ley Lines to interface with his most basic prototype hinted at one of two possibilities. One; that his direction was flawed and that he needed to go back and start again. Or two; that his research was simply too incompatible with Ley Line power and therefore unable to be fuelled by it.

Further testing went ahead initially with Harry hoping that it was the latter of the two issues; that what he was developing was simply incompatible with the natural magic of the world. That his experiments into custom situation based spellcraft was too flexible, too fluid for the Ley Lines to be properly contained. This left the hypothesis that in order to progress he would need to both craft and fuel the spell completely on his own. Not exactly a bad thing considering it was what he ultimately intended, but in the developmental stages it did make things more challenging.

Especially considering what happened when he first tested his prototype on his own.

Given that the inspiration for this line of research had been from a simple spell of illumination, Harry's first prototype was a ball of light that was specifically crafted to direct a beam of light that would shine vertically.

It very nearly killed him.

The spell worked technically. He was able to succeed in creating an orb that directed its light straight up in a single beam. But the orb was barely the size of his thumbnail which flickered like a flame in wind before being snuffed out after five seconds. That wasn't the issue. The issue was that simply creating that barely there spell had completely drained his entire, sizeable in its own way, font of magical power completely and come very near to drawing on his very life force to completely fuel the spell.

When the spell cut off, Harry had been left gasping for breath and completely bathed in sweat; as if he had just surfaced from a swim in a lake.

His heart had pounded like a drum in his chest and he could practically hear his blood rushing through his body.

Then he passed out.

When he awoke, having been unconscious for well over a half day, Harry had to now address a rather important concern. Power. His creation; however early it was in its development and readiness for proper usage, was far too costly. Even with a template that would be crafted and modified and filled in to properly construct the specific spell in place, the cost for building a unique spell and then fuelling it completely independent of any external source of magical power was far too taxing for a mortal Mage.

He imagined of course that the likes of Lord Xavius or even the Light of a Thousand Moons; Queen Azshara herself might have been able to use his craft to cast a few minor cantrips without suffering the aftereffects that he had discovered, but most certainly nothing of any real magnitude.

It had been a week since that first attempt. In that time he had made it a firm point to hold off on any further practical testing until he was able to develop a theory in reducing the cost his spellcraft required or some means to drastically increase his own personal reservoir of mana.

Something that was steadily growing to become an incredible source of frustration for the now eight hundred year old elf.

Knowing that he needed to maintain a clear head for his research; lest he make mistakes and further put himself and potentially others at risk, Harry set aside his books and magic in favor of some fresh air and a chance to stretch his legs.

Maybe some time away from his studies would help him?

Mother was attending to her duties at the Temple and he didn't wish to disturb her or the other Priestesses so Harry chose instead to wander the streets of Suramar.

To visit and smile with an absent fondness at the sites where he had once played as a child. To laugh quietly to himself when he saw the little secret routes and openings that had been discovered and used to sneak passed the city guard whenever he sneaked his way out of the city to visit the Grove of Cenarius.

Eventually Harry found his way to one of the cities quieter, more out of the way Moon gardens; places within the city that had been left to nature but blessed by the Priestesses of Elune so that, even in when the sun was at its peak, the light of the moon and the crisp air of the night was prevalent.

These places were always peaceful and quiet; out of respect both for others as well as for the Goddess Elune herself.

Seating himself on one of the gardens marble benches that overlooked a pond that, under the moonlight; seemed to be more like a shimmering well of starlight, Harry let his body relax.

Letting his shoulders drop and his body lean forward as he allowed the tension and stress of his studies drain from his body.

"Another that has come for the comfort of his Mother's light."

Harry turned his head at the sudden voice that had spoken up; surprised that he had not noticed another so close to where he had sat down.

"My apologies child. I did not mean to startle you."

The speaker was a powerfully built Elf to be sure. Even clad in rich robes of blue and green, powerfully large muscles could still be seen hidden beneath; larger than that of the normal muscular form of a regular Kaldorei male. Short black hair was swept back in waves framing a clean shaven face and the man's eyes glinted with the silver light more akin to steel rather than moonlight was was more commonplace amongst the Elves.

"It's alright, I should have realised I was not alone in the first place." Harry replied with an easy smile, waving off the apology. "You are right though."

"Oh?"

Harry looked away from the other Elf to gaze up at the celestially enchanted night sky and the moon that shone overhead in spite of the midday sun that truly ruled the sky at this time. "In this place, it really is the comfort of our Mother Elune that brings us here. The garden truly is a sight to behold. But it is the gentle warmth, that soft touch of Her light that is felt most keenly."

The other Elf nodded in agreement to the statement. "As true and real as the earth beneath our feet child. Permit me to introduce myself. You may call me Mardrin Shadowmantle."

"A pleasure Master Shadowmantle." Harry responded with a respectful bow of his head. "My name is Har'rin Whisperwind. Harry to my friends."

Mardrin nodded. "Tell me young Har'rin, what brings you here to this garden? I saw you enter; you looked, troubled."

Harry frowned. While not as cut throat as he had heard it was in Zin-Azshari; the community of Magi within Suramar was still well enough within the realm of 'survival of the fittest' to engender mistrust. He didn't know this man, he didn't know what, if any, motivation or agenda he had.

"I am in the middle of some, magical research." He finally admitted, figuring that he could censor his words enough to still keep the extent of his studies secret in the event that this stranger intended to make off with his work. "I'm attempting to do something with magic that as far as I have determined from my time at the Academy; is all but impossible."

"And what is that if I may ask?"

"I am trying to discover a method to use Arcane magic, to perform the craft of a Mage; without the need to tap into Ley Lines." Harry frowned as the memory of his most recent success/failure. "I recently hit a wall in my studies though."

Mardrin's eyes widened briefly; seemingly impressed with the chosen field of study this young Elf had taken. He had known many an Elf to come out from the Academies scattered around Azeroth. Each and every one had gone into the Academy with wide eyes and dreams of performing feats of legend that would see them elevated into fame and wealth only to leave with the unshakeable understanding that their potential was limited to their ability to manipulate and draw from the natural veins of power that spread out across the world from the Well of Eternity.

Never before had he found one that had come out of the Academy that possessed an idea that their education should have told them was impossible.

"A most challenging path." Mardrin commented. "Do you truly believe that such a feat could be possible?"

Harry frowned in remembrance of his latest experiment. That attempt to cast something so small as a simple weak beam of light and the feeling of near death it had given rise to.

"Absolutely."

The resolve, the determination, it shined through his brilliant golden eyes was a sight to behold. Simply looking into those eyes had Mardrin unable to deny the claim. He _wanted_ to believe the young Whisperwind's conviction. He _did _believe it.

"Well in that case I look forward to seeing what you can achieve."

XxxX

**-15, 195 D.P**

Harry was terrified. Pale, sweaty, shaking in the boots terrified.

He had committed a great and terrible crime that only thanks to the innocent prodding of his mother had he been made aware of. It filled him with shame, dread and guilt.

It had been so long, three hundred and fifty five years to be exact since he had returned to Suramar following his ordeal to the south of Azeroth with the Zandalari Troll Sa'Shiket when he and his unlikely friend and ally had fought and pushed back the Great Darkness that had been Hakkar.

But, more importantly for this current situation; it had been three hundred and fifty five years since he had last spent any time let alone seen his dear friend; Lunara.

She was going to be furious.

The first time he had earned her ire was when he had used the Emerald Dream and his knowledge gleaned from Cenarius to create a new species of flower for his mother all those years ago. As punishment for not explaining himself she had pelted him with apples. And the last time he had sparked her wrath had been when he had cheated in one of their games of hide and seek by shifting his form into a bird and perching atop one of Cenarius' horns much to the Wild Gods amusement. Lunara had never suspected that her friend would have had the thought to hide with her father and so had spent the entire day looking all over the Grove and its surrounding area bar her original starting point.

Even now simply thinking of her fury sparked a phantom pain at his chest where she had left a set of hoof shaped bruises where she had trampled him.

As it stood at this point in time however, Harry feared that nothing Lunara could do to him as punishment for his absence would trump the guilt he felt. He cared for the Dryad greatly. She was his best friend. Even despite the relative short time they had spent around one another. Before he had been taken to be a student under Cenarius he had found friends amongst the children of Suramar. They had all come into his life and left just as easily to follow their own path and Harry himself was not all that phased by their going.

But Lunara? If she decided to leave his life? He could not bear the very thought.

Currently he was flying over the forests toward the Grove of Cenarius, having shifted his form into a bird through the still remembered abilities he had developed while learning the Druidic path. This method of travel was also a means for Harry to really make a point to himself; that just because he had chosen the path of the Arcane, did not mean that he had completely forsaken what he had learned from his Shan'do.

It took no more than another twenty minutes of flight to reach the Grove and, circling overhead, he could see that Cenarius himself was absent of his home. Something that he very much doubted was a coincidence. There was no way that the Lord of the Forest had been unaware of his approach let alone his shapeshifting that had necessitated his re-connecting to the Emerald Dream.

He could not see any other occupants within the Grove; no sign of Lunara herself. But he could feel her presence below, somewhere unseen to his eyes.

Shifting his wings, Harry glided down toward the clearing floor, feeling more and more guilt the lower he got as he could actually feel a sense of sadness permeating from the vegetation itself; a reflection of the emotional state he had unwittingly abandoned his dear friend to. The grass and leaves of the surrounding trees had darkened in color and flowers dropped. Even the sunlight seemed to have dimmed.

Cenarius had always claimed that his beloved first daughter was a powerful Dryad and had the potential to be an incredibly gifted Druid with the connection she held to the Emerald Dream. Seeing what her apparent mood had done to the Grove that was maintained by Cenarius himself; Harry believed it.

Coming to a landing on a long hanging branch of one of the central tree's in the middle of the Grove, Harry hopped along its length to look around, trying to spot the reason he had returned.

It was from a small hollow underneath a tree that he saw her emerge from. He could see, from just an immediate glance that she was upset. Her coat was dull and lacking that vibrant, glossy shine he was more familiar with and the shining, joyous light in her eyes had dimmed.

Unable to remain unseen as he was any longer, Harry shifted his form back as he allowed his bird body to slip from his perch. Landing on the ground lightly, the faint sound was enough to draw her attention to him.

It pained him, to see the disbelief in her eyes when they found his. As if she was having difficulty actually believing that he was in front of her.

"I visit you, in the Dream."

Her voice was barely a whisper, quiet and soft as if it would break should she speak any louder.

"When Father returned and told me you had taken another path, I passed into the Emerald Dream and travelled to Suramar." Lunara continued, her eyes still dull and lifeless. "I hoped, I wanted you to notice me. To sense that I was close and play with me like you used to. But you never did. You were so focused, so happy with the magic that you had taken as your calling."

Harry winced. He had cut himself off from the Emerald Dream following his conversion to the Arcane; stopped calling upon it and even blocked off his sight of viewing into that realm of natural wonder.

That she had been so close to him and he had not seen because of his actions…

"You forgot me."

Harry's heart broke when he saw a tear break free from her eye and fall down her cheek. His shoulders fell and he looked away in shame. He wanted to close the gap; to step closer and deny everything. To take her in his arms and plead for her forgiveness.

He wanted to see her smile.

"I, I got lost." He finally spoke. "When I was running. When I shut myself off from the Emerald Dream and ran to magic for protection I got lost. There was so much to know, so much to learn. I didn't mean to lose myself within it. I didn't forget you. I didn't mean to leave."

The sunlight dimmed further and Lunara's arms came up to wrap around herself as if feeling a sudden chill in the air.

"I know." Lunara confessed, more tears spilling from her eyes. "I could see it in your eyes whenever I tried to get you to see me. I could see the joy, the happiness that I used to see whenever you would come to learn at the feet of my Father. I thought; 'how can I get him to come back when he is so happy without me?'"

Harry couldn't bear it. For the first time since his adventure in southern Azeroth; the Night Elf opened himself up to the Emerald Dream and pulled on it heavily. The Grove lit up with power and light and warmth as its vitality returned to restore the depression that Lunara's sadness had unknowingly imposed. The sunlight beamed through the trees and sparse cloud cover; restoring color to the grass and leaves of the ancient trees that surrounded the Grove and the rainbow of colors and scents from the myriad of flowers bloomed back into the forefront.

Sensing the restoration, Lunara; whom had turned her eyes away from the companion she had believed was gone from her side, looked back up to see the shining golden eyes of Har'rin so very close to her own.

"I left when I did not mean to." Harry offered a sad smile, easing on his grip over the Emerald Dream and letting go of it slowly back to the point where he was no longer connected to it. If only to prove to Lunara that he would not vanish simply because he wasn't touching it any longer.

"I lost myself in a pursuit for the power to be able to stand on my own." He continued, reaching out to gently rest a hand against her cheek. "I never thought, never meant it to mean that I wanted to always stand on my own. Will you forgive me?"

Lunara closed her eyes briefly; leaning into the warmth of his hand as if it held more comfort than that of the sun itself. "I don't want to lose you again. I can't bear the thought of being left behind or having to walk ahead without you by my side."

Harry felt his heart ache and throb against his chest. Trying to imagine what that scenario would feel like to him and hating the very idea of that reality. How could he have been so stupid, so ignorantly blind? To have come to a point where he could become so lost within his selfish need to stand strong in a world that he had seen to hold such powerful darkness, that he had forgotten that in truth; he was never really alone. That he didn't have to be.

"Then you won't."

Lunara's eyes opened and she stared up at him; feeling the conviction and strength in his words.

"Shan'do said to me; when he came to Suramar, that even if I take a path that is different to the one I walked before, that I was never alone." Harry removed his hand from Lunara's cheek and took a step back, locking his eyes onto hers carefully. "My path; what I want to be, is different than yours. But, will you help me walk it?"

Nothing was said for a moment of time. Lunara's eyes glistened with tears that had thus far remained unshed and her chest heaved with the emotions; both known and undefined, that were felt towards the Kaldorei that had, once upon a time been nothing more than a curious oddity to her.

The moment of silence, of hesitation came to a swift and decisive end when Harry found himself forced back a step when he suddenly had a young, beautiful Dryad smothering herself in his arms; burying her face into the warmth of his chest, her hands gathering fistfuls of his tunic.

He could feel the wet warmth of tears seeping through the fabric of his shirt as they finally fell, but more than that; he could feel the warmth of Lunara herself as she seemed to seep into his very being, his very soul itself.

"_Always._"

XxxXxxXxxX

**A/N**

**Alright then. So this is our first real attempt at delving into the genre of romance. We have read it a lot but never really tried to detail it personally. So we would REALLY appreciate feedback and help in any improvement for both this and other works we have in development.**

**Harry/Lunara is a unique relationship really. It is not based upon the physical side of a romance but is more spiritual than anything else so it will grow and be expressed different to other more conventional romances.**

**Please read more as it continues and despite the fact that the 'age of reviews' has passed; please give us feedback to help us maintain and grow in quality.**

**Also if anyone is curious to check it out we dropped a prologue for a Dragon Age: Origins story that we just **_**had**_** to get out of our heads.**

**Read, favorite, follow and review.**

**Next week: Throne of Babylon.**


	8. Chaos Control

_Disclaimer: The following story is a fan-made creation. I do not own Harry Potter, Blizzard, Warcraft or any other fandom that may or may not pop up. Please support the original material._

"My destiny is of my own making." Speech.

"_I remember the time..._" _Flashback speech. Spell-craft._

"**When your people huddled in caves I was there.**" Greater being speech.

"█▄██▄▄█▄▄█▄" Inarticulate roar/scream etc.

XxxXxxXxxX

_Previously:_

_"_Shan'do said to me; when he came to Suramar, that even if I take a path that is different to the one I walked before, that I was never alone." Harry removed his hand from Lunara's cheek and took a step back, locking his eyes onto hers carefully. "My path; what I want to be, is different than yours. But, will you help me walk it?"__

__Nothing was said for a moment of time. ____Lunara's eyes glistened with tears that had thus far remained unshed and her chest heaved with the emotions; both known and undefined, that were felt towards the Kaldorei that had, once upon a time been nothing more than a curious oddity to her.__

__The moment of silence, of hesitation came to a swift and decisive end when Harry found himself forced back a step when he suddenly had a young, beautiful Dryad smothering herself in his arms; burying her face into the warmth of his chest, her hands gathering fistfuls of his tunic.__

__He could feel the wet warmth of tears seeping through the fabric of his shirt as they finally fell, but more than that; he could feel the warmth of Lunara herself as she seemed to seep into his very being, his very soul itself.__

_"_Always."__

_XxxXxxXxxX_

_**-**__**15,195 D.P**_

Harry spent a couple of months at the Grove of his Shan'do. Repairing the shaken relationship he had with Lunara and reaffirming his vow to keep her in his life. Together the pair explored the winding paths and hidden secrets that surrounded Val'Sharah. They chased one another through frozen forests to the north and played within clouds high above Azeroth as birds of prey.

It was a pleasant change back to a quieter life where ambition had not quite made its way into Harry's life and a reminder that; even now with how far he had come since his childhood he could still enjoy a quiet harmony. With her.

Lunara herself had been very much happy for his lingering presence. No more tears had stained her face since his return and the only cries to tear out from her mouth were that of joy as they played.

It had been a surprise, a welcome one nonetheless, to see that despite his change in path; that Harry still possessed a skill and potent capability for her Father's teachings even after shutting himself off from them for so long. Easily slipping in and out of the grip of the Emerald Dream and pulling upon Druidic power as if he had never stopped using it in favor of the Arcane ways.

It had been exciting, flitting around trees and over streams, chasing after and fleeing from him interchangeably, her form shifting into various creatures along the way only for him to match her.

More than one Ancient had been less than pleased when she had attempted to scramble up their trunks in the form of a Saber Cat, chasing after a laughing bird that was nestled in their boughs.

But just as the day has its setting sun, so too did their fun have to come to its inevitable end. Harry had duties to attend to in his Elven home of Suramar. Lunara too had responsibilities that needed her attention. Romulus would most certainly scold her if she continued to shirk on her duties to The Wild.

Together the two enjoyed one last adventure through the woods on the way to Suramar. Lunara in her natural from flitting by as if she were more spirit than flesh with Harry showing surprising skill and agility as he maintained his pace by her side in his own natural Elvin form; hard muscles flexing across his bare chest as he would flip over raised roots or swing under branches to cross a stream or ditch.

It was regretful for the Dryad, when the pair finally came within sight of Suramar's mighty walls; a sign of the end of their blissful fun together.

"It will be different this time."

The Dryad remained silent as she kept her eyes fixed on the distant Suramar, listening to but not turning to face her dearly beloved companion.

Harry brushed off a few blades of grass that had stuck to his chest and walked to stand closer to Lunara's side, reaching out to rest a hand along the small of her back. "I'll not lose my way from you like I did before."

She could not help the tears that prickled at the corners of her eyes. A lingering fear of him leaving her rearing its ugly head once more. She did not want him to go. If he never left her then he would never become lost. He could just stay out here; in The Wilds. If he did then she would not have to be afraid of being alone once more and neither would he.

"..."

Golden eyes blinked as Harry cocked his head to the side, ears twitching as he tried to hear what Lunara had whispered under her breath. "What's that?"

"You could, stay here." The Dryad repeated softly, her eyes flicking up to his. "You don't have to go back to Suramar. You could stay here, in The Wilds, with me."

Harry found himself without words. It was so very tempting an offer. He loved that free feeling and the joy that came with being out here in the wilderness and natural world beyond the structured walls of Suramar. The thrill and adventure each day brought with Lunara and the other spirits of Azeroth. To wake up each day in the comfort and warmth of the morning sun with only the responsibilities that nature brought.

But...there was something lacking.

Harry wanted, more. It wasn't greed or pride. It wasn't the ignored pressure of expectation that would be placed upon him for his golden eyes. It wasn't even a child's desire to live up to a mother's expectations. Harry wanted more for his own sake.

This path he had taken; to learn and master the Arcane arts of Magic. It had fit into him like a puzzle piece he had not known was missing. Every time he learned something more in the field of magic, it was as if he had been dying of thirst and had taken that first gulp of cool, refreshing water.

"...The Wilds has so much that I love." Harry began, swallowing thickly as he considered his words. "There is a sense of calm that I just don't find in Suramar that I have missed and I hold so much regret for the time I have already lost out here, with you."

"But you cannot stay." Lunara's voice was tinged with the sadness of where she could see his words leading.

"I regret turning away from Shan'do Cenarius as I did; ignoring everything he had taught me and shutting myself from the Dream the way I did. I regret abandoning you; the way I simply lost you from my mind and neglected the joys you and this place brings to my heart."

Harry breathed out a sigh and raised his left hand, keeping his right still placed upon Lunara's back. A flash of pale blue light and a complex, ornate runic circle burst into the air above his palm before exploding forward into a shower of sparks. High above the two a shaft of sunlight that was breaking through a gap in the forest canopy shifted and took the form of a powerful golden dragon. With a crescent moon crown floating between two large horns, it was an impressive imitation of the Lady of the Emerald Dream; Ysera.

"But I don't regret this magic that I have found. So curious and endless in its wonder. Like I have found something that I did not know I was even missing. If, if I leave now. If I turn around and return with you into The Wilds now. It will be another regret."

"I'm still learning. More than just the Arcane, I am learning of the world and my place within it." The Kaldorei continued. "The most recent lesson I have learned now is that of regret itself. I don't want to carry another regret. So forgive me, I beg you, but I must return to Suramar."

"Promise me."

The Dryad turned to face the young Whisperwind and grasped his hands together, boring her eyes into his own. "Promise me you will not hide from the Dream. That when you are here, so far from me on Azeroth; we are still together in the Emerald Dream."

Harry leaned his head down and pressed his forehead against hers, feeling the cool bone of her horns against the sides of his head as he looked right back at her with fervent sincerity. "I swear. We will never part."

XxxX

Despite the affirmed promise between the two. It was several more hours before the two finally parted ways. Elune's Light was shining down from the starlit heavens and the song of Crickets and Owls filled the night by the time Lunara departed for her father's grove.

There was more than a small part of Harry that wished he could just turn around and follow after her. But in the end he continued toward Suramar.

A burst of inspiration regarding his work had come to him a week into his reunion with Lunara. Something he had pushed aside in favor of exploring and furthering this relationship with his closest friend.

Now however, with his mind permitted to return to thoughts of the Arcane and the undertaking he had shouldered, possibilities and potential applications whirled about in his thoughts.

This inspiration; this missing link that had come to him was the feeling of completion. He had been flying in the heavens with Lunara high above the mountains north of Val'Sharah, playing with the wind spirits there to create a small whirlwind that they could more or less jump into for fun.

It had been that middling state of holding enough control over the wind to keep it confined to the upper air and away from anyone on the ground below, but allowing enough chaos to grow to allow it to form naturally and fully.

A perfect state of chaotic control. Something that flew directly in the face of everything the Masters of the Academy of Suramar taught.

The Masters who had taught Harry at the Academy had been very clear and strict in explaining that to use and master the magical arts of the Arcane was to exert a complete and unyielding control over the power. An aspiring mage, when crafting a spell circle defined strict rules and limitations to exact complete control over the spell itself.

'_A Mage does exactly and only what he desires. Nothing more. Nothing less._'

It was this guiding principle that Harry was beginning to suspect was the reason why his research had hit a wall. If this epiphany had any genuine potential and truth to it; the magic he was designing, a craft to exclude the usage of Ley Lines and tap into _only _the reserves of the caster himself, he had to allow for an element of chaos and uncertainty to the mix.

A leading theory following one of his attempts to use the craft he had designed, one that had left him very nearly bone dry of Mana; was that he had focused so much of his will and magical power in the crafting of the spell circle itself. Crafting and forming the shape and scope of the spell from the ground up in every aspect. Every fine detail and metaphorical inch of the spell, carefully built and shaped within specific limitations.

A great deal of focus which required and even greater deal of magic to ensure the accuracy and stability of the greater spell.

For a Mage supplementing their Mana with power from the Ley Lines of Azeroth, this process was barely an idle thought. Ignoring the fact as well that Harry was not simply recreating pre-established spells but building on the spot new spells each and every time, the basic idea was essentially the same.

It took no time at all to make it to his personal quarters at the Temple of Elune, deftly avoiding the Priestesses going about their nightly duties to the Goddess.

Pulling out the tomes and tomes of notes and research he had penned over the years in dedication to his work, Harry poured through the contents for the relevant information. Running calculations and simulations within his mind in order to determine if there was any validity to this new line of inspiration. Or if it was nothing more than a fantasy.

Chaos through Order. Order through Chaos.

His theory was sound. The Arcane way of magic; to enforce strict order was not feasible for what he wanted.

Cenarius had taught him to see the balance in all things. It was how one was able to call upon the Druidic Arts and push upon the Emerald Dream. Push but allow the pull.

Harry needed to cease his attempts at total control.

Setting his books aside, the golden eyed Elf held his hands out before him, palms facing one another.

A flicker of pale blue light coalesced in the space between his hands as a Spell Circle took shape. It was slow and careful; Harry wanted to see exactly how the spell was forming so he could take notes regarding its formation and overall form upon completion.

A simple orb of light. That was all he desired of this spell. Colorless but with only the brightness of a hearth's fire. The binding perimeter formed first, the aspect that confined the required Mana to the specific spell and limited overall wastage. Harry eased up on his micro-managing of its development, allowing the circle itself to flow and shape itself as it would. Shapes and runes took form along the interior edge of the perimeter circle; forming a secondary ring.

A brief assessment of his reserves and Harry felt a small measure of satisfaction when he determined that his expenditure was significantly lessened than previous tests.

However, significantly less was still far beyond practical acceptance for something so simple as what was essentially a reading light.

A moment later, when the Spell Circle was complete; its overall design and form near completely alien from anything he had seen described in any text, he idly considered how it would appear if he had designed it to emit an emerald light akin the that of the Dream itself.

When the Spell Circle suddenly and rapidly altered before his eyes, Harry lost his concentration. This was, highly unexpected. He hadn't actually put forth the proper intention to alter the spells composition before it had altered itself to his thoughts. And that was ignoring the fact that a fully constructed Spell Circle _could not be altered at all!_

The light of the faintly glowing Spell Circle faded out of existence and Harry stared dumbly at the space where it had once sat; his mind abuzz with a number of queries and theories. It should not be possible. Spells were not designed to be freely altered like that when they were completed. Sure it was possible to modify them in the initial casting phase but that was a very different from what he had just witnessed. Technically the spell had already been cast. All that had been required to finish the Magelight was to fill the Circle with the required Mana.

The spell was a colorless orb of light. And yet an _idle thought_ had changed it into an orb of emerald light. Small detail changed, ultimately an insignificant detail. But a fundamentally immutable detail.

The only way a Mage could alter the composition of his own cast magic was to use a second spell to alter the first. Harry had altered a single spell _from within the same spell!_

Unfortunately this impossible discovery was overshadowed by the overall failure of this spellcraft's practicality. This methodology of chaotic control had refined the Mana expenditure quite a bit, far more than his previous experiments to a point where he hadn't passed out from the attempt this time. However, for a spell that was designed and supposed to require next to no Mana to cast; even with the refinement it had drained nearly eighty percent of his total Mana reserves.

"I see you've made some progress since the last time we spoke Har'rin."

The suddenness of the voice and how unexpected it was had Harry spin around on the spot, raising a hand and pulling upon the Emerald Dream, a small orb of green light cupped in his raised hand.

Seeing the amused face of his recently made friend Mardrin Shadowmantle.

Relaxing his posture and releasing the power he had pulled and allowing it to return to The Dream, Harry straightened and breathed out a calming sigh before shooting a glare at the still smirking Elf.

"I swear one of these days someone is just going to hit you for sneaking up on them Shadowmantle." Harry commented. "How long have you been standing there anyway?"

Mardrin shrugged and made a distinctly 'who-can-tell' face. "Not long, I saw you on your way here with the face of someone who had realized something important. I figured that I might see something interesting."

The larger Kaldorei entered Harry's quarters proper and picked up one of the younger Elf's books and leafed through a couple of pages. "Last we spoke you mentioned that your efforts were continuing to result in a cascading failure of the Spell Circle as well as a total drain of your reserves. This time looked different."

Harry stepped back and fell into a chair, relaxing his body and allowing himself to re-connect to Suramar's Ley Lines; to restore himself. "I found what I was missing to complete the basis of my work; I am confident in my claim that I can now create proper and functional spells that require no use of Azeroth's Ley Lines."

"But it is still entirely impractical as a result of the cost demanded from even the most basic and simple of spells."

Harry cocked an eyebrow at the steel-silver eyed Elf. "You've been keeping track of my work?"

Mardrin waved a hand dismissively. "While impressive amongst, our, kind. I have seen something like this before."

Wait what? Harry's big project. This unprecedented undertaking that he had worked tirelessly on for decades now, wasn't even original? Another had at the very least, attempted, it before?

"Someone else was able to figure this out?"

Mardrin nodded as he gathered the rest of Harry's books and walked over to the bookcase to return them to their proper places. "Someone I have known since my youth. He has a mind for magic unlike anything you could ever imagine. I think he researched it on a whim really."

Maybe it was Harry's own pride, but he could not help the wave of disappointment that washed over him. It was not something that he had really acknowledged consciously. But he had believed that what he had been working on; to craft a means to use Arcane Magic without needing to tap into Ley Lines or any other external power source, was unique. Never before attempted.

Only, it had been.

"This, friend of yours, has already done all this?" he asked, slowly, questions filling his head as he filtered them down to their most basic and important. "Have they published any of their work? I looked everywhere I could think for any information regarding my project but came up empty. How did your friend resolve the expenditure issue?"

Mardrin grinned, sharp teeth glinting under the flickering light of the room's mag-torches. "You are an impressively gifted young Kalgoorlie Har'rin Whisperwind, don't be discouraged. But this friend of mine is on a completely different playing field than you. The Mana requirements of this craft that you and he share is within the realm of functionality for him."

Harry swore under his breath as he hauled himself back up to his feet. He was still drawing power from the Ley Lines to restore the Mana he had used to fuel the Magelight experiment but his reserves were back at a level where he didn't feel too tired to move about now. This unknown friend of Shadowmantle's had been able to re-create, no, _invent_ the magical method that he himself had attempted and been strong enough to use it regardless of the cost it demanded.

Which meant either that this individual had chosen not to attempt to further refine the cost, or that the Mana requirements could just not get any lower.

"So I've failed."

Mardrin blinked slowly, confusion popping up within him as he looked at the young Elf as Harry's shoulders slumped and defeat became evident in his posture.

"I understand that I am by no means at the peak of my potential as a Mage, it would take thousands of years for me to reach a level where I can use what I have created. Sorry, recreated." Harry continued.

The large Night Elf furrowed his brow in thought. He liked this youth, truly he did. Har'rin Whisperwind was a refreshing change from the norm. he was humble but still had a sense of personal pride about him. Powerful and gifted went without saying and he was incredibly self-motivated.

Mardrin was glad to have met him.

"Get dressed." The large Elf instructed as he stepped forward to clasp a hand on Harry's bare shoulder.

Harry flinched when a sudden and incredibly vivid vision super-imposed itself over his mind. A cavern, deep within the High-mountains to the north; massive and warmed by open veins of liquid magma that seeped out of cracks within the vast cavern walls. An entrance, hidden in the side of a frost bitten mountain and concealed by its own formation to seem like just a shadow cast by a rocky outcropping.

When the vision cleared, Harry had to blink spots out of his eyes as he heard Mardrin departing from his room.

"I'll be waiting there for your arrival Har'rin. Perhaps I can offer some help when you get there."

XxxXxxXxxX

**A/N**

**Alright so this is not exactly a long chapter. Well, nothing 'exactly' about it, its a short chapter plain and simple. **

**The reason for this is mainly because we felt that the end here was a good cut off point with a continuation coming in the next chapter. There is a lot going on in the immediate future and we felt all that would be best to go into a single chapter rather than splitting it up.**

**To be honest our chapter lengths are only as long or short as we feel fits the content involved.**

**We are still in our Fantasy phase at the moment so we've no idea what will be the next update at this point in time sorry.**

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**Cheers.**


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